


A Small, Yet Infinite Universe

by gravityuniverse256



Category: Gravity Falls, Reverse Falls - Fandom, Reverse Pines - Fandom, cipher twins - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Attempted Murder, Attempted Suicide, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Comedy, Complete, Death, Detective AU, Dipper's real name, Drugs, F/F, Fire, Forced Relationship, Human Bill Cipher, Human Will Cipher, I finally got around to writing this, M/M, Medication, Multi, Murder-Suicide, Overdose, Personality Disorders, Reverse Falls AU, Self Harm, Smoking, Soulmate AU, Suicide, There will be graphic violence, Vomiting, Willdip, and mentions of death, anxiety disorders, because no one else will, bill becomes a detective to investigate the death of his brother, cipher twins au, depressive disorders, he's magic by the way, just a really fuckin weird 50000 word spinoff of ducktective, lots of billdip, manic depression, please DO NOT READ if any of the above are triggering to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-06-15 10:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 52,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15410823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravityuniverse256/pseuds/gravityuniverse256
Summary: Bill Cipher, otherwise an omnipotent and generally all powerful being, must put his luxuries behind him in order to investigate and get closure on the death of his dear brother. His use of ploys and deceit manage to fool his clients into thinking he is just an extremely talented detective, and begins to move up the ranks, using listening and capturing devices that are littered all across the United States to his advantage. But, he gets caught up in an unexpected relationship, not knowing the concept of soulmates in a reality such as their own was even feasibly possible, or that he would be part of their "system." Eventually, the demon finds that the universe, although objectively massive and infinite, can still have its extreme coincidences.





	1. A Man of Contradiction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to all that inevitably find this! I thank you greatly for taking the time to read my incredibly self-indulgent fanfiction, and I hope you are as entertained reading it as I am thinking up the ideas to write for it. Please read the summary and the tags before proceeding, to ensure that you will be able to avoid this work if any of its elements are triggering. As it progresses, I may include other types of media to reference such as my personal art pieces or those of my friends, different songs, and the like. If you have any recommendations or headcanons about the characters, please feel free to comment! I always love hearing what people think about my writing and the way I portray characters, and their personal views! Anyway, this chapter is a simple introduction to our humble (?) detective. Thanks for reading! -Will

We live in a society in which people are always watching. Aside from magical omnipotence, that of which is inevitable, it’s quite difficult to escape the numerous listening and recording devices everywhere you go. The frivolous yet talented detective knew this well and began to reflect on his past plans to use such listening devices to his advantage. Although his omnipotence was surely a blessing, it would be difficult to cover up in such a questioning and suspicious society, so he had to find intricate methods of using his omnipotence but not revealing his true power.

The man, who many would whisper amongst themselves about to express their suspicions that he was not ‘from here,’ had a very broad personality, and not broad in the positive way. In the right mood, he was immature in an almost fun-loving way, and showed off bad habits without shame, such as regularly using expletives when in formal situations, chewing on pens and other unsanitary actions, and regular drinking and smoking.

The others didn’t understand his immaturity and lack of professionalism, not to mention his strange fashion choices. But, they accepted him, as shaming was becoming more of a thing of the past and tended to be frowned upon, and after all, he was (somehow) an incredible detective. What they also did not understand was his scheme in acting such a way, and how it covered his true intents and sinister personalities.

They were not able to see past his tricks, nor did he let them. They never saw the victimizer, true sociopath, or masochistic individual he truly was. They saw him as simply narcissistic, rude, and unprofessional, yet proving himself to be one of the best detectives in the city and eventually the state. His clients didn’t know his story, what he truly was or could become, or the fact that he wasn’t a human being at all. It proved to be easy to deceive those around him with elaborate illusions and lies. They didn’t know why he pressured their boss at the time to hire him so intensely other than the fact that he was objectively talented at his work. 

“My clients don’t know who was killed and will never know.” He always stated it exactly like that, trying to be as punctual yet vague as possible. A man of contradiction, they supposed, and let it be. It was strange, though, that the man of a borderline happy-go-lucky nature would become so facetious and cynical when questioned privately. He expressed his stubbornness with cases, explaining that, as he puts it, “I’ve managed to face up to the fact that I’m the only one who can even begin to scratch the surface of doing my job effectively, and that I will never get the help I need. So, I might as well get off my sorry ass and do something about it.” He would then give an uncharacteristically dry laugh and stare at something just past the listener’s head, far enough that it would be clear he was not focusing on the listener, but close enough that it was extremely disconcerting.

In any case, this is the story about him. His name was Bill Cipher.


	2. What A Tangled Web We Weave When We Practice To Deceive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter! He finally got an interview and we find out more about some of his stranger attributes. 20 hits already!! Thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! -Will

“We’re seeing warmer than average temperatures across the southland, with excessive humidity to pair, and expected rainfall in the Pacific Northwest, as you can see around the Oregon-California border-…” The television was shut off, the man with unevenly colored hair sitting back on the couch with a sigh, setting the remote next to him on the couch. The time read 5:46 AM, and he realized he had been up all night. 

He blinked, finding himself extremely bleary eyed and weak, almost as if his feeble human mind was swirling in another realm. He cursed at himself for being so pitifully weak in this form, both in the physical and mental sense. He felt resent for having to go to an interview, the not-so-inner narcissism in his mind driving him to question the need for such a thing. “Why can’t they just hire me? Why is everything a test here?” He considered how nice it was to be able to use his power to get just what he wanted, how easy it was back home. With that thought, he shakily lifted himself from the couch and trudged towards the bathroom in the small apartment.

Bill stared in the mirror, fascinated by the new form. His smooth skin was a lovely toffee, golden freckles dusting his cheeks, forehead, chest, and shoulders. The man fluffed his hair, wavy light blonde hair falling in front of his heterochromia. It wasn’t like it mattered, his right eye was fairly blind anyway, cursed human form. The naturally colored hair on his left was jet black, cut shorter in avoidance of falling into the unnaturally golden eye that he was able to see out of. Primarily, the man focused on his build, which was slim and tall, but he did not appreciate it. He looked so unnatural, as seen by others, realizing the deal he made may have been a mistake. Disguise would be much more difficult this way.

He sighed heavily, fog disappearing from the glass mirror just as soon as it appeared. It wasn’t very humid yet, it seemed. “I might as well get going,” he mumbled to himself, then began to carry out typical morning preparations.

After a bit of hair styling and switching out a few piercings, he decided he looked fairly sharp, throwing on a crisp, white button up and a light, black overcoat, charcoal dress pants and shoes completing the outfit. “I don’t look bad, at least,” came another mumble, he found that he missed speaking, being quiet didn’t come very naturally to him. He glanced to his facial features, which looked particularly heavy from a night lacking sleep. Bill grumbled, stepping lightly out of the bathroom. He attempted to levitate, which seemed to be a possibility for a second, before collapsing to his knees.

Nearer to the floor, he noticed a large can on the floor near the kitchen sink, with a post-it note in the previous tenant’s handwriting stating “Feel free to use!” Bill got to his feet and picked up the can of coffee grounds, searching for a coffee maker, which he found on the kitchen counter. “Seems like things are picking up,” he mumbled in his baritone, voice hoarse from lack of use. He poured in an excessive amount of grounds, of course what would be more than recommended, and waited.

The aroma filled the house, the coffee being a lovely gift from the previous tenant as it was very high quality. The man grabbed an apple out of the fridge, taking a bite and cringing. He certainly did not enjoy apples but had a strange fancy for lemons. He would peel them and pour sugar on them, this quickly becoming one of his favorite foods, but he was sadly out of lemons. In any case, the coffee had finished by the point he had finished his apple, and he drank it straight from the pot, apparently completely unaffected by the heat or bitterness of it all. It would be truly astounding to anyone watching, really.

With his clearly insubstantial meal of an entire pot of coffee and one apple, he set out for the day, feeling lighter than before. Taking the elevator downstairs, he caught the early bus to the more downtown area of the city, where the building of the city’s detective bureau resided.

After what seemed like a bus ride that lasted an eternity when in reality it only lasted about 40 minutes, he decided to tour the downtown area for a while, mind set on getting more lemons and sugar. He was quite early for his interview anyway, so it would be a few hours before he would have to return to the building. The area was absolutely bustling, cars and people cluttering the streets. One must pay attention to where they’re going in such circumstances, as Bill found out. He also found that he…did not fit in very well. In fact, he stuck out like a sore thumb in the fairly homogenous society, but he did not have the typical anxieties a normal human would have about not fitting in. He didn’t want to be noticed as supernatural, as his plan would be foiled much earlier than he would prefer. But he kept walking and kept his head down just as everyone else did.

After purchasing an abundance of lemons, he returned to the building of the detective bureau, confidently strolling in and politely telling the receptionist at the desk he had an 11:30 interview with…and he looked down at the smudged writing on his hand “Mr…North…uhh-…” The receptionist gave a laugh, “Mr. Northwest. You must be Bill?”

Bill smiled, unusually sharp eye teeth glowing. “Yes, my dear.” The receptionist gave him a polite nod and directions to his specific room, telling him to have good luck with his interview. “Oh, I will,” Bill cockily replied, but in a soft enough tone that it may not be taken that way, and strode over to the elevator, plans to go to the sixth floor. This is going smoothly, he thought to himself.

The interview began, Mr. Northwest clearly being irked the second the taller man walked into the room, especially without knocking.

“So, Bill, tell me a bit about yourself…” Northwest switched glasses, starting at the already questionable resume the other had slammed down on his desk. "My name is Bill Cipher, I'm blind in one eye, and these glasses are quite fake." He grinned, fangs all-a-glow.

The interviewer was taken slightly aback, nevertheless addressing him kindly. “I see that…”

"I noted that...habit of yours, with the pens." The interviewer was slightly repulsed, hoping for the first time that a client would steal a pen, not being just a careless accident from holding it.

Bill glanced at him, continuing to chew excessively on the post, it accidentally breaking off in his mouth. He looked slightly surprised, then went back to chewing. "Yeah. I guess it's a tick I get when I'm thinking." He answered shortly.

The interviewer sighed slightly, finally copping up to what he had been subtly hinting at the entire conversation. "Look, I just..."

Bill looked to him with inquisitive eyes, playing the part of the densest person in the universe perfectly.

"-I just.... don’t think you're right for this job. You haven't...proven much experience or reliability in your resume.... aside from vague statements about omnipotence or...." The interviewer trailed off and looked up, noting the rising heat in the room.

The other's already strangely colored freckles began to dim, almost giving off soft red hue. His eye seemed to change color as well, although this was more gradual and subtle, as is the transition of color from the bright blue of day to the sherbet pastels of dusk. 

"Sir," he spoke in a hushed yet serious tone. "I don't believe you're considered my application carefully enough. I cite multiple references from beings much more incredible than what you could ever conceive," Bill feigned sadness, almost a begging nature about this act.

As if further fanning the flames of the demon's fury, the interviewer spoke with a harsh and overarching status about him. "And here is the exact reason why I am not prone to hire you. You're unrealistic, childish, and plainly informal. Now I suggest you come to terms with these facts soon, or else I will be forced to kick you off these premises. You're not welcome here."

The demon's eye grew redder, the temperature rising about 10 degrees in the already humid and stuffy room. He slammed his hand on the table, black scales quickly engulfing his hands and forearms, ashes falling daintily onto the desk as he spoke. There was fire in his throat.

"You're one to judge, considering the fact that you couldn't see through my very simple act: the most basic in interrogation and various detective work, the feigning of innocence. Now sir, I have picked up, just from entering this room and taking one glance at your face that it was already past your lunchtime and you were quite looking forward to eating the sushi burrito you had bought this morning. As many interviewers do, you simply take the contents of the resume that are not provable and never will be, although they cannot be disproved, and don’t even attempt to stretch your feeble human mind enough to consider their credibility." The demon took a deep breath, returning to sitting in the overly stiff office chair and flicking the receipt left of the interviewer's desk from the local convenience store. A soft smile soon returned to his face. "I have one final inquiry. Where do you expect me to be within the next hour?"

The color drained from the face of the stunned and almost robotic seeming interviewer. It seemed as if he cracked a smile, but one couldn't tell. "You'll be in this very building, because you're hired."

"That's what I thought..." Bill mumbled, grabbing his belongings, of course including the chewed-up pen, and quietly shutting the door to the interviewer's office. He only paused for a sweet moment to snap his fingers, a confused gasp being heard from the inside of the room.  
"Sir? Where have you gone?"

Amidst the dizziness, he glanced down at the resume the other had left for him, with the big, red stamp stain. "HIRED." And at that moment, the temperature of the room dropped nearly 15 degrees.


	3. 1808: Overthinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found myself with some free time so I decided to write another chapter tonight! Bill doesn't stand for ANYONE'S bullshit. Enjoy, and hello to my new readers! Please tell me what you think so far if you'd like! -Will

Bill did not manage to get two feet before he collided with another, a shorter boy, looking to be around 17, with large ears and unnaturally colored purple hair.

“AH!- I apologize, new glasses…” The shorter drifted off, looking up to the man towering over him, who easily clocked in at six foot two. “I-I…did you drop anything? Are you-…”

Bill interrupted him with a gentle hand on his shoulder and a half smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” Bill promptly put down his bag of lemons and shook the other’s free hand, the other hand holding some supplies and a manila folder. “Name’s Bill. I was just hired by your…extremely stone-faced boss.” The taller gave a small chuckle.

The younger couldn’t stop a smile, agreeing. “He’s quite cold sometimes, yes, it’s a surprise he hired you!” Then, he noticed the almost immediate drop in the face of the taller, sensing the other misinterpreted what he said. “I mean-I mean! Because of the way he is, it’s a pleasant surprise! I wouldn’t begin to diss you that soon…”  
Bill nodded, admitting to his misinterpretation, as he was able to sense that the younger’s intent was in fact to compliment him from the start. “It’s alright. Now, I need to ask, is there an available office on this floor?”

“Yeah, make a sharp left and it’s room 1808, three doors down on your right side. Feel free to settle in as you like. I’m glad you’re on our team!” The teen expressed cheerfully, then briskly walking away, papers in hand. Bill contemplated for a second before picking up his bag of lemons and following through with the instructed directions. “That kid probably had more coffee than me today,” he mumbled jokingly to himself before opening the door.

 

The young man gave three knocks, to indicate his status as an intern, and that he intended to submit something to his boss, so the meeting would be brief. The whole building was littered with codes of all types, a laminated guide to them being present on Bill’s new desk.

Northwest was slouched over, feeling exceedingly drained and slightly nauseated, trying to wrack his memory for the facts of the matter. “No…I remember his name…did we just meet? He was strange…his colors…the fire? Was there fire? No…I liked him…he was reliable. Yes…he was smart and observant, he played a strong game…I think? No…this doesn’t add up…” The boss’ incoherent mumbling of contemplation was interrupted by the knocking and eventual (after 24 seconds) “Are you alright, Mr. Northwest?” that shyly came from the intern.

A muffled but audible “Yes, yes, come in, what do you want, Stephen?” came from past the door. The intern entered, papers neatly in hand. “Uh…I have the pens and paper clips you wanted and the collection of initial evidence surrounding the Pines case…are you alright?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, just hand them over. And…” Northwest considered if he should proceed as the other placed the items on his desk. “…we have an unknown, I don’t know if you’ve seen him yet…bright blonde hair…I think? And dark skin…uh…” As the other trailed off, the intern’s face darkened, brow lowering and general demeanor becoming gravely serious.

“I know, a code 1808, correct? I was friendly and proceeded to put him into the room of those unknown, and I’m sure he hasn’t figured it out yet.” The intern’s concerned frown morphed into a scowl in a matter of seconds.

“Good eye, Stephen, you’re learning fast. Keep him in there, at hour fourteen I will report to you if he is allowed on these premises or shall be…rid of. You remember the codes of execution, yes?” Northwest almost had a prying tone but softened it enough that it would not be taken as such. “Of course, sir.”

“Fantastic. Now, keep him entertained.” The intern nodded and briskly walked out of the room, smoky glare immediately morphing back into a sweet, borderline innocent smile. He strode to Bill’s room.

 

Inside, Bill was adjusting the blinds to the window that could not be opened by any means except for breaking, and even then, the glass was metallic and quite unbreakable except by means of extreme or supernatural force. The blonde man did not have to turn his head to know of the intern’s arrival to his room, immediately stating “Miss me, kid?” And gave another chuckle.

The intern did not have to act taken aback. “Eyes in the back of your head, huh? A good trait to have in this business, for sure.” After taking a few steps into the room, the intern’s heart jumped into his throat. He’d left the laminated code sheet in this room, from back when he was kept in room 1808. Before the taller man could turn around, he snatched it off the desk and promptly stuffed it down his back, not knowing what else to do at the moment. His teenage brain panicked slightly. Had he seen it? Does he know what room he’s in? Does he know what we’ll do to him?

“…I mean, it would take an extremely intricate piece of machinery to break this stuff- hey, are you listening?” Bill whipped around from the metallic glass he was considering, he had been questioning earlier what happened that they would have to install such strong glass when the windows already were sealed shut. I mean, no one would be crazy enough to jump out of a window six stories up, right?

Bill knew damn well that there were many crazy enough to do that, including himself in the correct mood. He also knew quite well where he was, why he was put there, and the intern’s true intentions. But, he reasoned to play along with it, knowing that causing a ruckus would get him nowhere. One can never appear too smart or too observant. That was the mistake Sherlock Holmes made, Bill considered. He wasn’t tricky enough with other people’s emotions and interpretations, and in modern society, you must be tricky or be tricked. Hence, the reason why he played foolish on the glass situation.

Stephen managed to retain his smile, his brow sweating, but he was able to blame that on the now prevalent humidity. “Oh, sorry, yes, just thinking about the fact we’ll probably need to get a fan in this room soon! We’ve had a few incidents in this building, all the windows are like that. Better to be safe, this is a detective’s bureau, after all.” He gave a laugh, starting to slip into the relaxed character. “So, how have you settled in?”

“Pretty well, in fact, I’ve gotten all of my belongings organized, although I don’t really have many, it seems.” Bill’s eyes smiled. “Take a seat, if you’d like, we could have lunch together.”

“Oh, my lunchtime hasn’t begun…” then he glanced at his computer watch, the time showing 12:15. “I guess it has, then. Time really flies, huh?” Stephen smiled, pulling up a chair across from the other’s desk as Bill settled into his own office chair. Bill retrieved bowls for them and plastic utensils, and they talked casually as they ate their respective meals.

“Lemons…with brown sugar? Interesting choice. I didn’t think I’d even get to see a peeled lemon in my lifetime.” Stephen gave a hearty laugh, pretending to casually poke at the other for being strange, but in reality, all of his senses were raised.

“Ah, yes, I quite enjoy these, it seems! I’m not very able to taste bitter or sour, so it’s more refreshing and only slightly sour. It’s a shame they’re so expensive at the markets down here.” Bill glanced up with disdain to the ceiling as he ate, appearing to not appreciate the price that the lemons came at, but actually staring at the ‘well-hidden’ security camera in the corner.

“Oh, do you not live in the city?” The intern inquired, curious.

“No, I live in an apartment near the outskirts of the city, near the woods of this one sleepy town…I’m not sure you would have heard of it before. Gravity Falls? I hope to get a house of my own one day.” Bill replied truthfully, swinging the spoon a bit as he ate.

The intern almost let his face slip, although that was too much information for someone like Bill to interpret in that he knew exactly why and what emotion was behind the slip. “I’ve seen it on maps, kind of lost in the woodsy area southeast of Portland? I think I’ve driven through it once on a road trip. How did you choose the spot?”

“Honestly, it was the cheapest around this area, and the previous tenant of my apartment was super friendly and accommodating, more than these other…people. They stare at me strangely. I mean, I know I stand out, but come on. I’m just trying to find a job that fits my talent, you know? I need to eat somehow. I need to buy lemons!” Bill exclaimed jokingly to conclude his statement, lifting the bag and letting out a genuine laugh.

The intern let out a laugh as well, finishing up his Hungarian style goulash his mother had made for him when he visited her the weekend before. “That’s very interesting, I understand you. That’s why I’m an intern here, I’m trying to rack up credibility, so I can get into a good college and eventually the business itself.”

“I’m sure you will…uh…what was your name? You never told me.” Bill stopped himself, knowing why the other hadn’t told him, but attempted to establish a connection with him through similar relations in order to psychologically influence him in a way that he’d let it slip. Objectively, the boy wasn’t as good at pretending and plotting as he thought he was, at least, not enough that he could deceive Bill Cipher.

“Stephen, sorry I forgot to introduce myself earlier. In a bit of a rush, you’ll understand.” Stephen realized his mistake soon after the first syllable of his name left his mouth, but what else was he supposed to do? A name can’t hurt anyone.

“Well, Stephen, you seem very competent and I’m sure you’ll move to succeed. It will be a pleasure working with you.” With a smile from Bill, he shook the other’s hand, and disposed properly of both of their bowls and utensils.

“Thanks for the support! And good luck with your work, as well!” Stephen raised his voice slightly as he walked further from the other. “Oh, I will, kid.” Bill replied, seemingly jokingly, but in reality, he was just giving a pinpoint accurate premonition.

It went right past the intern. Stephen couldn’t see Bill’s absolutely pretentious demeanor.

 

At the strike of two in the afternoon, Stephen got a message from Northwest on his computer watch. [Code 667.] It read simply, and Stephen nodded to himself, being accommodating to his boss’ decision. 

With that, Stephen picked up a different manila folder from his desk and extracted the laminated paper from the back of his shirt, placing it in the folder. It was clearly marked in thick sharpie, “PINES CASE: COPY 1.” He walked out and strode towards Bill’s office.

“You’re having a room change, we’ve decided to put you in larger office. We didn’t realize it was empty.” Stephen announced as he walked in, noticing Bill with his feet up on the desk and leaning back in the chair, making some kind of strange drawing in ballpoint pen. “Hmm?” The other hummed, pretending to not note the other’s presence immediately. “Oh, lovely! I guess that folder is also for me?”

“Yep, it’s the first case we’re having you look at. Actually, it’s a renewed case from a few years ago, a murder case that we weren’t able to solve. The brother of the victim made a huge stink about it again recently and…ah, I’ll spare you the details. You can read for yourself.” Stephen found himself involuntarily trusting the other more and more, telling him facts that perhaps shouldn’t be told. He helped the taller man gather his few items that he did have and move into the room across the hall and on their left, marked 667.

Bill had seen the message on Stephen’s computer watch, and knew what the code meant, and how it connected to the room he was put in. His alteration of Northwest’s memories had worked.


	4. The Victim(izer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Two new chapters today, perhaps three. Warning, this one is a little sad. Enjoy, and thanks for reading! -Will

After Bill had gotten settled in, Stephen left his room, once again wishing him luck and shutting the door behind him.

“Pines case, huh?” Bill muttered to himself, opening the folder. He saw the familiar laminated paper from earlier, grinning to himself, knowing he had successfully blended in with their clique. At least, successfully enough. He studied the names of those involved, left eye widening slightly. “Mabel Pines…killed?” It made him realize just how much he lost touch with them, the whole city, in fact.

““The resurrection of the case by her twin brother, Dipper Pines…god, how old are they now? 17? 18? I think 18…” His contemplative grumbles didn’t ring out clear enough that the security camera and microphone in his room could pick them up. Of course, he was absolutely elated to work on this as his first case, because he already knew these people. Northwest wouldn’t like that though, as it would present bias. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Bill mumbled to himself with a low chuckle.

After studying the case’s aspects, Bill concluded that the murderer had covered up their tracks extremely well, a ploy that even he would applaud. Nevertheless, he was determined to (and knew he would be able to) solve this case. The objectively baffling part about this was the question of who would want to murder someone like Mabel? From what Bill had seen, she was caring and good at heart, and it wouldn’t particularly make sense unless this was a case of second or third-degree murder. But it couldn’t have been, as it’s proving so difficult to find the villain, so it must have been extremely well executed and planned. “First degree, obviously. Why target Mabel…” Bill contemplated, rubbing his temples slightly.

“The incident first reported on September 16, 2015…” Bill trailed off from his out-loud reading, considering the time frame. “Funny…” Bill’s fairly neutral resting face morphed into a sneer of resentment. “Funny how such things relate.”

Bill reflected on the fact that his brother had died on August 31 of the same year, the Pines twin’s birthday, to be exact, which definitely irked him. This is the reason he went into the business, anyway, to finally get closure on that sickeningly demented case his brother had to face. He felt the victimizer start to creep out from the back of his mind, but he couldn’t deal with that right now, and he knew it damn well. So, he countered it with “Well, I know at least one person who couldn’t have committed the murder!” and laughed dryly to himself, before swallowing hard and frowning once again. He felt dry, almost dizzy and disoriented. Sleep deprivation was part of it, yes, but the thought of his brother bothered him to no end.

He glanced over to the framed picture placed on his desk, something his brother had drawn for him a few months before his disappearance. It was a self-portrait, and Bill had done one jokingly in response, although he possessed few art skills. On this particular picture, the eyes were scratched out with red ink, something in a different language written in the corner. His brother’s signature had also vanished from the picture, as if someone unknown had drawn it. “I don’t know why I still keep that.” Bill muttered and shook his head, stepping outside his office to get something to drink.

The eyes of the various pictures he had placed in his office seemed to bore into the back of his skull as he walked out.

 

A fairly average looking man walked up to the water cooler next to Bill as the blonde was filling up his reusable bottle. He was about five foot eleven, with jet black crew-cut hair, wearing a light blue button up and darker blue tie. When the man spoke, he had an unexpectedly nasally voice, asking Bill what his name was and if he was that new employee Stephen had told him about.

“Word gets around fast here, huh? Or you all are just extremely observant.” Bill gave a small chuckle to punctuate his mumble, finishing filling up his bottle and stepping aside so the other could have his turn. The man, easily in his early 30s, took his turn and spoke casually with Bill. “It seems it does. Anyway, good luck with the Pines case. I swear to god, that brother of the victim, he’s sure a little pisser. Never shuts up, can’t seem to understand some, actually, many cases go unsolved.” The dark-haired man sneered a bit as he stood up straighter, rolling his eyes, not at Bill, but at the thought of the case.

“Seems he’s not popular around here.” Bill let his eyelids hang, being more emotionally unstable than he’d like to admit. “It’s not an issue. I’m fairly tolerant with such things,” that of course being a blatant lie, “and I won’t have it being drawn out for three more years.” Bill took a slight jab at the agency for not being able to figure out such a thing, but it flew over the head of the man in his 30s.

“Well, in any case, I have to get back to my work. Have fun with your first case.” The man patted Bill lightly on the shoulder as a sign of acceptance, but Bill wasn’t in a very social mood at the moment, so he did not return the favor, or even smile. “Thanks.”

Bill wandered back into his room, sitting down lazily in his extremely stiff office chair. He couldn’t help but notice how stuffy it was in the room, definitely needing a fan if none of the windows could be opened. Why didn’t the building have central air conditioning? “How cheap…” he grumbled, removing his overcoat and placing it neatly on the chair. With a few deep breaths, sitting in the darkness, and drinking water, he was able to calm down some. “Let’s not think about Will for a while.”

He opened the blinds and paced around his room a bit, trying to expel some energy. He joked in his head about why everyone was telling him “Good luck!” constantly, why no one would tell him their names immediately, and how much everyone seemed to hate Dipper for some reason even though he was the one enabling them to do their job. He sat back down, feeling satisfied and fairly in balance.

“Alright, let’s take another look…renewal in 2018, new accusations and evidence coming to fruition…”

 

It was five PM now, nearing the end of Bill’s 9:30-5:30 shift. But the man had no plans to stop working, actually, his plan was to come fairly near to solving the case.  
Bill knocked four times at Stephen’s door, indicating he was a new hire and intended to ask a brief question. A friendly “Come in!” sounded from behind the door.

Bill gently stepped in, giving Stephen a soft smile. “I’ve gathered the evidence necessary and I feel that I can begin with my interviewing duty. Do I have permission to…” Bill trailed off, pretending as if he had still been getting used to the codes, when in reality, he had them all memorized to a T. “…1806?” He expressed his desire to carry out further data collection and perhaps investigate one who would soon become, as the bureau classified such people, an unknown.

“But sir, your shift is near over. You don’t have to work any longer than we assign you to.” Stephen fretted slightly, clearly being the type to want to follow rules as closely as possible, but also not fully understanding why Bill would want to go overtime in the first place. It wasn’t like he’d be paid.

“I already considered that, but, my thoughts are still fresh in my mind. I’m a bit more of a spur of the moment type, so when I feel motivated to do something, I’ll do it right at the moment with no qualms.” Bill replied, calmly but seriously. He really wanted to move on. He wanted to see Dipper again, and the blonde knew this would be an exceedingly easy case because he had background knowledge on some of the parameters.

“If you insist, then I grant you permission, or should I say, 630.” Stephen then laughed at his own joke, earning a bit of a wider smile from Bill. “Thanks, I’ll head out then.” As he walked out, the taller did a lame kind of salute to Stephen, then making his way to the elevator.

“I’ll probably be here when you return!” Stephen yelled after him. “What a determined worker.” He mumbled to himself, then concluding with “but sadly, much too determined.”


	5. Apathy Meets Pretentious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill finally sees Dipper for the first time in a few years, oh, but what is this strange feeling? Enjoy! -Will

Bill barely caught the bus that took a direct route to Gravity Falls, by which he may or may not have teleported onto the back of the bus from an alley when he saw it a quarter mile down the road, hence not having to pay for it. He grinned at his mischief, then noticing the granny near the back staring at him with the most horrified look one will ever see on someone over 80. Bill just waved to her and acted like he was there the whole time, and the granny decided to blame it on her rapidly failing eyesight.

It was a calm bus ride, not many people going southeast for their commute home, so they weren’t as badly affected by rush hour traffic. They arrived at their stop with good time, Bill walking down the road some, looking for the address marked in the case file. It was fairly far from the old shack the twins formerly resided in, but close enough one could walk. Bill was extra careful around these parts, as he knew the people of Gravity Falls were always looking for something supernatural to exploit, and Bill wasn’t having any of that.

“1808 North Haze Road…oh, that’s funny.” Bill gave a laugh, curious as to if the code was solely based from Dipper’s address. Bill composed himself and knocked thrice at the door, definitely not expecting what came before his eyes next.

A young adult, 18 years old, wearing black Dickies, black socks, and a slightly large My Chemical Romance shirt opened the door, looking to be about five foot nine. He wore real glasses, unlike Bill’s, that were thinner and more rectangular, and a blue streak through his hair that had faded slightly to aqua. He looked up at the man that towered over him, slightly taken aback. “Uh…hello?”

Bill realized he hadn’t introduced himself or stated his purpose while examining the other. Yep, this was definitely Dipper, he just hadn’t expected him to take…a more edgy turn. “Why didn’t I expect this...? It’s Dipper, for godssake.” Bill thought to himself, but couldn’t express the fact that he knew the other. But, something else nagged at the blonde, something strange and foreign yet so familiar somehow. It felt like something he had experienced once before, but it appeared to be so lost in his psyche. Something about the soft hair on the boy, or the facial definition…maybe it was just pure recognition. Bill pushed it aside as soon as it came.

“Hello, yes, I’m here with the Portland detective bureau, ahem-…” Bill noticed his throat was oddly tight and his face seemed warm, definitely less stable than before. “Get it together,” creeped the voice from the back of his mind. He pretended he was a soldier, straightening his posture and speaking more fluidly. “I’ve come to interrogate you on the case in 2015 that you’ve renewed recently.”

“Oh, yes, I expected someone would be here soon. Please, come in, would you like something to eat or drink? I would have served you dinner if I had known you were coming.” Dipper was extremely accommodating, a skill he had learned from interacting with so many different detectives. So far, the point Bill’s other clients wasn’t ringing as very true, the teen was not pushy or rude.

“No matter, I’m just fine. You needn’t give me anything.” Bill felt another part of him creeping up through his speech, but he tried his best to choke it down, as this was a serious matter. Dipper and Bill both settled down, the brunette already feeling his mind slipping away slightly. He was lost in examining the other’s face, his golden freckles and smooth, toffee skin, and captivating heterochromia. Not to mention his slim and lovely build and…Dipper’s thoughts trailed off as the interrogation began, but he still wondered about those obviously fake glasses in the back of his mind. Perhaps it was a joke.

“So, you’re Dipper Pines, correct? And you’re 18 years old?” Bill began with simple questions, trying to learn more about the case.

“Correct. I’m turning 19 at the end of this month.” Dipper replied seriously but calmly, noting the fact that the detective was left handed.

“Does anyone else live on this property with you or formerly lived on this property?” Bill inquired, the question seeming simple, but actually quite vital to the case.

“Yes, currently my great uncle Stanford and I live here, just the two of us. Formerly, his twin Stanley lived here, but moved to California in 2014, and my twin sister…” Dipper trailed off. It seemed he had done this exact same questionnaire multiple times, from the exactness in detail of his answers. “Well, you know, she was killed in 2015.” Dipper held back whatever emotion he had about that detail, covering it up fairly well.

“That’s what I’m investigating here, I know. Anyway, she was murdered from what you can tell on the night of September 15, but you only found out and reported the incident on the morning of September 16, correct?” Bill asked such simple questions to ensure all the facts he had in front of him were correct.

“Correct. I had only found her body the morning after the alleged murder.” Dipper replied coolly.

Assurance of dates and basic questioning continued for a while, Bill beginning to ask some more difficult questions and Dipper’s personal experience and opinions when they both heard footsteps up the stairs. It could only be one person, Stanford. Bill cunningly masked his magic, knowing Stanford would probably be sharp as a tack and recognize him. Still, it was surprising Bill even got into the house, with their paranoid asses around it wouldn’t be unlike them to set up some kind of protections.

“Hey Ford, whatcha need?” Dipper asked casually as the older man walked through the basement door.

“Oh, just getting some liquid mercury…who’s your friend?” Ford noticed Bill immediately, hackles raised, but not recognizing it was, in fact, the Bill they knew.  
“He’s a detective from the Portland bureau they sent. I renewed the…case.” Dipper looked almost guilty about the whole thing, knowing Ford would most likely disapprove slightly for the simple fact that they didn’t keep such a thing localized, even though both of them knew quite well the local detective agencies were next to useless.

“Again, Mason? Are you serious?” Ford did seem to have distaste with it, but sighed and shook his head. “Alright, well…don’t go throwing money away if you can’t get closure. I mean, do you really think it’s worth the pain of another rude and ultimately useless detective practically robbing us blind?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Bill had stayed relatively quiet through the entire altercation, but decided to speak, as what Ford said was fairly insulting to him and his client. It also expressed the possibility that Bill could fail solving this case, which of course would NOT happen. Dipper looked to the blonde, who spoke before he could through clenched teeth.

“I mean, not suggestively you, but, whatever. Do whatever. I’m just trying to advise you away from driving yourself mad.” With that, Ford coolly walked back downstairs, shutting the door behind him.

“Oh, I’ll get fucking closure, you apathetic fu-…” Dipper sneered towards the door after the other had gone, clearly enraged with the other’s lack of understanding for how he felt. Bill looked at him with one eyebrow raised, continuing to take his messy notes and examining the room. He did a little calming doodle on his hand to keep in balance.

“Sorry. He’s just…going back to your previous question about my relationship with him, actually, he’s always critiquing everything I do. He doesn’t seem to understand that my sister was murdered, and I still don’t have any idea who could have done it or what the reason was. He just thinks we’re throwing money out the window or whatever, bur really, I, I…I feel it’s necessary. Just so I can rest easy, you know?” The boy was quick to open up.

“I understand.” Bill debated speaking about his personal experience, but he realized that’d be much too risky. He didn’t want to be found out. “Out of curiosity…” Bill trailed off, organizing his words. “You don’t think your uncle could have killed her, right?”

“God no! Actually, he was away visiting his twin and nephew when the murder happened, so it was just the two of us alone. My sister and I, I mean.” Dipper replied hastily, knowing Ford had a credible alibi. He wouldn’t spend that much for plane tickets and then not even go on the trip.

“And this trip lasted how long?” Bill queried.

“From September 3 to September 20, so about two and a half weeks.” Dipper responded confidently.

“What was the relationship between Stanford and Mabel like?” Bill still had the possibility stirring in the back of his mind. It seemed like something Stanford would do, that old rat. He would probably be sly and manipulative enough to cover it up, Bill considered.

“It was good! I mean, they didn’t have the strongest connection after a while, and sometimes they would get into fights about morals and stuff for the science he was doing, but otherwise they were okay. I mean…yeah, they were okay.” Dipper trailed off slightly, seeming to realize his own denial slightly, and Bill knew this and made note of it. He made a second doodle on his arm as they spoke, occasionally taking messy notes.

“I see…” Bill mumbled, standing up and informing Dipper he was going to tour around the house a bit for anything suspicious. He also asked where the body was found and was planning to take new swabs and photographs of the room, now that it was three years later.

“Upstairs, room slightly to the left. Also, don’t go in the basement. Perhaps come back another day when he’s gone…actually, can I have your card so I can call you once you have a chance?” Dipper was a bit all over the place. “Uh…” Bill searched around his pockets but realized he didn’t know his office phone number yet, in fact, he didn’t have an office phone. “Here’s the number of an intern who works in the same department. He can transfer you to me once I…get an office phone.” Bill laughed slightly, more of a nervous laugh than anything, and handed over a rectangular piece of paper with Stephen’s name and number on it.

“Okay, no problem. New to the job?” Dipper had been considering that, Bill’s questions and demeanor seemed odd throughout the entire interview, it was unlike the normal interviews with other detectives. It seemed the blonde did not play by the rules, which Dipper appreciated in a complicated sort of way, but worried that his detective was too pretentious. What if Ford was right? Why did the blonde have those fake glasses? What was with his stature? Why did he look so…different? Dipper shook his head and blamed it on internalized paranoia and prejudices. He came to the reality that the detective was kind of conceited and unprofessional, but they seemed to be getting further in the case than before, so maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Dipper looked down to the coffee table they were previously sitting around while Bill was in the other room, snapping photos and taking notes, as well as doing more crude doodles and making stupid puns as a sort of mnemonic. He noticed a post-it note stuck to the table with poor handwriting that just said his first name, and not Mason, either.

“What’s this?” Dipper strode casually into the room Bill was taking pictures in.

“Oh, that’s my to-do list.” Bill did not even have to look up to see what Dipper was holding.

“But…it just says my name, is this some kind of joke?” Dipper felt suspicion creeping up on him, a familiar suspicion that he hadn’t really felt since grade school.  
“What? I know that tone. It’s an important case.” Bill couldn’t help but grin slightly to himself, knowing exactly what Dipper was thinking about him. Yes, it’s so fun to mess with the brother of a murder victim’s emotions. “Hey, lighten up a little.”

Dipper grumbled and crumpled up the note, throwing it in the waste paper basket, briskly walking to his room and shutting himself in. He didn’t want this man in his house anymore. Pretentious asshole.

Bill rolled his eyes and continued photography and swabbing. After finishing the final room, the scene of the murder, he gathered his evidence and headed back out, not saying a word to Dipper or Ford as he left.

Dipper crept out of his room after he heard the front door shut, knowing the detective was most likely gone. “God dammit, another grandiose detective I have to deal with.” Dipper sneered, sighing and resting against the outside door frame. “But man, he’s good looking.” The brunette shook his head and sighed, going into the kitchen to make some coffee. He discovered a post-it note on the kitchen counter. “Clever of you to see how pretentious I am.” It read, in the familiar poor handwriting. Dipper groaned and ran a hand through his hair, clenching the note. “Ugh, fuck you, dude!” Then, he noticed the strange doodles. on his right hand. “Wait…wait. That’s not…” His eyes went large, bolting out the door, post-it note still in hand. “COME BACK HERE! YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!” But the brunette found that Bill was long gone, and he simply was yelling into the forest.

And Bill laughed on the bus that was a solid two miles from the small house. “Dumb kid. Really handsome, though.” He sat back in the padded bus seat, a half grin on his face. 

“I hope he calls me back.”


	6. The Victim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song "We're Alive" by Cavetown is a good song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yz0ZZ3Wf_eg  
> Also, I switched to Rich Text so I wouldn't have to reformat everything.  
> -Will

As Bill approached the office, it was about five minutes of 8 PM. He didn’t expect Stephen to be in the building, nor was he quite in the mood to speak with the younger, nor anyone, in fact.

The ecstasy Bill felt while with the brunette seemed to have vanished, and he was entering a rapid downward spiral towards a different character. _The Victim._

The blonde stepped out of the elevator, looking worn from not eating or sleeping recently. Nevertheless, he stepped on, blowing right past Stephen’s office where a computer light still could be seen through the blinds of the window. It was evident the boy was over dedicated, not sleeping or stopping for breaks very often.

Bill swung around the corner into his room, grabbing the lemons and a few other various belongings. He opened the lower left cabinet of the room, revealing a drawer inside that functioned as a secret compartment. “I’ll need these,” Bill grumbled, grabbing a bottle of vodka and a pack of smokes. The other office door could be heard opening, Stephen calling out “Bill?”

The taller closed the drawer and cabinet with his foot, straightening his posture as he shut the office door behind him. “Yeah…?”

“Oh, good, you’re alright, I was worried, since you got back so late and it was almost the end of my shift, but I didn’t want to lock up and leave your belongings in here and I was wondering why you were taking so long because I wasn’t too familiar with the situation and…hey, are you alright?” Stephen began babbling from worry, a habit of his with nervousness, before noticing the other’s deadpan stare and the bottle of vodka to the opposite hand of the bag of lemons.

Bill took a deep breath, his brow knitting with an unmistakable sadness, and he gritted his teeth. “Yeah. Just a bit tired. Have a nice night, Stephen.” The blonde kept his eyes to his feet as he walked out past the shorter, quickly opening the elevator and disappearing without another word.

“You too…” came an at first annoyedly abandoned, but then upset murmur from Stephen.

­­­­­­­­The length of the bus ride couldn’t be determined by Bill, as it felt so wretchedly long yet emptily short. He experienced a familiar tightness in his throat, his arm and hand muscles seemed to be straining themselves to exhaustion, although they were doing no work. Most of all, his brain attempted to fool him, hearing strange voices that weren’t there and seeing faces in the middle of the road, playing to the backbeat of guilty thoughts.

“I’m just tired, I’m just hungry, I’m just thirsty,” Bill kept trying to intervene with the thoughts, but evidently to no prevail. “I saw someone interesting today. I got further in the case. I did good work.” A voice that crept out from the back of his mind with startling strength countered it skillfully. _“He will just be in your way. You didn’t get far enough. The work wasn’t good enough to save your brother before, was it? Why should it be now?”_

Bill shook his head and looked out the window, exiting the bus robotically at the stop a block away from his apartment. He strolled into the back alley, then teleporting into his room, not feeling like climbing stairs. The elevator may be broken, he thought, and he couldn’t get away with entering and walking straight back out again.

The elevator wasn’t broken.

 

The blonde, now looking unkempt and fatigued after the day’s ordeals, slumped down on the couch and threw the pack of smokes on the table. He snapped his fingers, the vodka opening with ease, and flicked the cap across the room.

“Curse him, he was just a burden anyway…”

_“Maybe you’re the burden.”_

“Can’t be, I’m only useful-…”

_“Then why do you hurt everyone around you? Why does your presence bring bleakness and dejection?”_

“What do you mean, Stephen seems…”

_“You know what he said as you left and how he said it. He felt betrayed. He felt anguished that you couldn’t give him a little fucking respect, unlike anyone else in that office, even after staying past his shift for you and fretting consistently for your safety.”_

“He wasn’t…it wasn’t…shut up.” Bill took a swig from the bottle, tasting the initial bitterness, comparing its essence to that of rubbing alcohol. “Get back. Stay out of this.” His tone was almost lethargic in nature.

_“You know drinking just makes me more prominent in your mind, right?”_

“We both know what I’m doing here then, you don’t have to announce it VERY LOUDLY in my head or anything, we both know-…”

_“You like this, you want to feel guilty and set fire to things and smoke and bask in all the fucking glory of this, this feeling right here.”_

Bill noticed he had yelled “very loudly” in fact, very loudly. But of course, the thought played in his head, loud and clear. He knew exactly why he was doing this. “It’s better if I know at least.”

_“You’re still making a conscious decision to carry out the action.”_

“SHUT UP, WILL YOU?” The blonde took a longer, angrier swig, swallowing hard and letting his arms fall by his sides. He kicked off his shoes and furrowed his brow. “You’ll see when I’m drunk, you’ll fucking see, voice from the…right??” Bill looked blearily down at his hands, giving a small hiccup, shrugging. “Probably, who even cares, right…?” he murmured, not even finishing the entire sentence out loud.

“So good…” he gulped down more, two thirds of the bottle gone by this point, seen as money down the drain by some.

_“Smoke, it tastes richer with the alcohol.”_

“Hah, as if, you fucking…fucking detached sounds.” Of course, the blonde began to shake the pack impulsively, distributing the tobacco in the cigarettes. He snapped, lighting an unexpectedly large flame from his fingers and successfully igniting the cigarette he’d pulled out. “Hah…the alcohol…” he then started mumbling formulas to himself, seeing as the content in the vodka made it easier for him to light a flame; objectively, he was more flammable. “Clever.”

_“Embrace it. See that picture, remember him?”_

“Of course I remember him, whadda playin’?”

_“You said you’d protect him, that one time as kids, the joke deal you two made? When he was sad, and you wanted to make him feel better and make him laugh? But let’s not focus on those important memories and your complete and utter failures.”_

“Mnng…shut up. Shut up, I don’t want to…” he paused to finish off his first cigarette with astounding speed, shoving it into the nearby ash tray and lighting another. He finished off the bottle of vodka with it, giving a satisfied hiccup. Despite how he wasted it, the alcohol was fairly good quality. Nevertheless, it seemed that sometimes the miscellaneous, fun memories were more crucial to his emotional state than major heartbreaks and failures.

_“Remember those stupid little art lessons you’d do with him because deep down, you knew it made him feel more validated than he would ever feel? When you would draw things as jokes in return for his lovely, gorgeous drawings? How talented and smart he was? God, how smart. Almost more than you, but certainly not situationally. But this isn’t fucking about you, so don’t get your dick too hard about it.”_

“Eurgh, I’d never…” Bill shook his head, completely misunderstanding. “So smart, and he manipulated the mindscape, he was so tragically funny, it was…fucking awful.” Bill slurred slightly as he spoke, only saying certain things loud enough that they would resonate.

_“Oh yes, and the weird shit you talked about? And how he understood you so well? You remember why, of course.”_

“No, det-…deter…who cares. Detached voice, I care not to.” Bill lazily swung his fist, brow resting lazily, but sadly nevertheless.

_“Oh, lovely. You know why. Just admit it, say it out loud. You can hear it ringing in your ears, feed me further, Cipher.”_

The words became more of a hiss to him, the dark room being overcome with static in his periphery. “Sh…shit. I don’t want to…I feel-…” his ears and cheeks were hot, from the alcohol and embarrassment. He lit another cigarette, chain smoking managing to distract him slightly. He glanced over at the picture on the side of the room, the eyes crossed out with red ink. There was blood drawn to be dripping in the background, from an earlier psychotic episode of the blonde.

_“Say it. Or I may spare you tonight.”_

His throat tightened as he gritted his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes. This feeling was certainly unfamiliar, an extension of other feelings, but much too far past the blonde’s comfort zone. The words spilled out of him, cigarette falling idly out of his mouth and burning his wrist. It didn’t matter.

“Because…because he made me.”

_“Good boy. Now sleep, and choke on your tears, you bastard. William must have thought he didn’t mean shit to you, because you didn’t save him. You know what you caused, his own creation betraying him like that. He wanted a friend. A protector. A brother. Some way to purge the psychotic elements that ailed him and troubled him so. And now, you’re just a lost, wandering piece of one, and he lost his other piece a long time ago. You know, when he fucking died.”_

Bill didn’t bother to respond, stumbling over to his bed and awkwardly pulling his belt off, kicking over the empty bottle as he did. He didn’t care about the half-spent cigarette still on the couch, if the apartment burned down, so be it. A blackout felt so sweetly close to death, a fatal fire would just be a treat.

He was too drained to take any other clothes off, face feeling heavy. The blonde stumbled onto the bed, falling on his face, blacking out almost immediately.

 

His dreams tortured him, a swirl of his own thoughts mixed with those of the Victim, until a new visitor came around. He alluded to magically locking everyone in their apartments and raising fire from the depths of hell, burning alive everyone trapped inside, but slowly enough that it would be an anguished death.

_‘But the longer I sleep, the slower my heart beats. There’s a fire on my floor telling me to sleep some more…’_

And sleep the blonde did, not awoken by the piercing fire alarm from the fire the cigarette had caused in his apartment.

Smoke rapidly engulfed the room, neighbors calling the emergency services. He heard a whisper in his dream, the one of Bill burning the apartment down. The Victim spoke.

_“Enjoy this while it lasts. Soon, you’ll be the one to burn.”_


	7. The Boy and His Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, 100 hits!! Thanks guys!! And sorry about not posting for a day, some things have been going on. Anyway, enjoy! -Will

The sound of sirens overcame the otherwise relatively quiet suburb on the outskirts of the city. It was quite late for some, 11 PM on a work night, so the evacuations of the floor were quite a disruption.

The responders rushed to Bill’s door, breaking it down after discovering that it was locked and there was no answer. Some began to tame the smaller than expected fire (as it hadn’t fostered for very long), while others searched each room for people.

“In here!” One shouted upon discovering Bill’s body, two others rushing in to assist carrying him out of the building. Although tall, the blonde was quite slender, making the responders’ job exceedingly easier.

Soon enough, the fire was put out. The extent of the damage to the apartment wasn’t as bad as it could have been, only the carpet and some furniture being damaged with the flames. The cigarettes and ash tray had gone up with the flames, so the cause of the fire could not be determined, at least not without some investigation.

It looked like an unfortunate accident, the blonde becoming blackout drunk and a fire occurring, so it was hard to press blame on anyone.

Rumors spread rapidly among the frazzled evacuees, from random things they had heard from the responders and calls the rooms next to Bill’s had made. After seeing the blonde’s body, though, some suspicions were challenged while others were just fed further.

“I bet he’s just a chronic drinker. Fucker forgot to turn the stove off, that bastard, displacing all of us.” One extremely annoyed middle-aged man commented, distastefully looking to others.

“No, this must have been a freak accident. Why would anyone do that to themselves?” Clearly, the college student hadn’t seen as much of the world as they thought.

“Smoking, perhaps, or candles? We all know those carpets are quite flammable. Remember that one time I-…”

“Yes Emilio, when you knocked the candle over during that ceremony of yours. We were displaced for two weeks.” Another man, being in his mid-thirties, sneered back at the other.

“It wasn’t a ceremony, I was…practicing!” He, of course, did not want his Satanic worshipping to be public in a town like this one, but would not stand for the insult of calling it a ceremony.

“Blackout drunk!”

“Accident!”

“Smoking!”

“Sickness!”

“SETTLE DOWN!” The voice of one of the responders boomed through a loudspeaker, clearly looking annoyed and frazzled himself. “Now listen, we’re transporting you all to a nearby facility where you’ll be able to stay for the next week as the smoke clears out. As for your jobs, we will aid in any way needed to file for temporary displacement.”

A universal groan could be heard from the crowd of mostly adults.

“Why did asshole over there have to light a fire anyway? We should sue him!” The middle-aged man shouted over everyone’s displeased murmurs, the fighting about who was at fault nearly started again before the responder silenced them and began to file them onto a bus that was called to pick them up. What a rowdy group.

And the ambulance took off, the unconscious blonde inside.

 

Bill awoke the next morning feeling positively awful, not knowing what a true hangover felt like. This paired with smoke inhalation was not a pretty combination. His eye was much blearier than usual, a notable stinging felt in both, and an unmistakable dryness, he needed liquid that wasn’t alcohol.

And then came the nausea.

The blonde groaned slightly to himself, his gorgeous toffee skin seeming to have lost some of its luster. His head spun as he tried to lift it, deciding to cease attempts, as an extreme headache soon ravaged him.

Worst of all, he was stuck in a hospital, and this would be the day Bill found out he absolutely hated hospitals. Past his own thoughts, he heard something else, trying to look over to his right where there were a couple visitors chairs.

“Bill…Bill, are you awake?” Stephen’s voice resonated softly as he tried not to startle the other. The teen arose from his seat, walking slowly over to check on the other.

“Ye…” the blonde was only able to get a fraction of a sound out before coughing, voice suppressed from the inhalation. He lifted a hand, putting it on the bar of the hospital bed.

Stephen’s brow was knitted with worry, insisting the other rest, and that he’d grab him a water bottle. The teen reflected, receiving the call earlier that morning that this was the only contact that they could find for Bill, with no cell phone and only one source of ID, and Stephen’s card was wedged in one of the blonde’s pockets. He recognized his importance to the other’s safety, but also wondered why Bill didn’t seem to have a family, any siblings or parents. To a fellow worker, he’d prefer not pry unless they were an unknown.

He thought of the incredible story he’d tell his older sister later tonight and smiled to himself. When in doubt, he thought of his sister, and what insight or jokes she’d have about the whole thing. He was fortunate to have a fairly normal family. But, he was socially intelligent enough to realize that some were not as fortunate as him, and knew he needed to respect this fact. So, the boy decided he’d help the other in any way he could through pure compassion.

The teen retrieved the water as promised, cautious not to have it too cold. Bill greatly thanked him, feeling profoundly grateful that he had someone willing to help him, and not pry at him with questions. After Bill deemed himself rehydrated some and able to sit up, he tried talking a bit with Stephen, who was naturally curious as to what happened and how he could help in the future.

“I remember seeing you with the vodka and the pack of smokes and I was really concerned, I almost followed you home…”

It took most of Bill’s regained energy to keep himself from shouting not to mention that, as everything flooded back to him from the previous night, swirling with his headache and previous disorientation. Instead, his eyes just went extremely big and he shifted uncomfortably, then wailing slightly at head pain.

Stephen was smart enough to take the clue that Bill most likely did something acutely stupid, but that was just going to be something between them. This would have to be the first serious instance by which Stephen would have to lie for a client, in this case, the client was Bill, and the case was the legal and monetary obligation of the apartment fire.

“I’m going to tell you what actually happened first…” Bill was able to find his voice, it hurt, but he planned to be brief. At least, as brief as his verbose nature would allow him to be.

“Something overcame me, guilt? Pain? I’m not entirely sure. I drank my sorrows, naturally, and smoked to pair, but something in my mind wouldn’t let me…be careful. I left a cigarette on the couch and I blacked out.” Bill lightly coughed after his statement, voice cracking with stress. Stephen handed him the bottle again. The blonde took a relieved swig.

Of course, this wasn’t the full truth, but it was as close as Bill could openly get.

“That’s what I thought…” Stephen mumbled, continuing to keep his voice low. “I can’t say I fully understand, and…” he almost went into a lecture about how careless the action was, but he realized the other must be going through a rough time of some kind. He didn’t need a lecture right now. “…and I’ll support you. We can play this off as you simply getting blackout drunk, and the fire being a freak accident of some kind, from an outlet spark or something.”

Bill smiled, feeling Stephen’s compassion. He knew simply being blackout drunk was not a crime, especially if they made the situation to be that Bill did not carry out the fire through means of temporary insanity or general/specific intent. Objectively, the fire was unrelated to his drunkenness, he just happened to be unconscious at the time.

“And…I know you’re not exactly rich right now so…I’ll try to get some money to help pay for your medical costs and costs for apartment penalties and repairs…” Stephen trailed off with a wave of Bill’s hand and his head shaking.

“I can take care of the apartment repair myself. The medical costs will be a struggle, I’ll have no idea how to pay that off…” Bill fell right into the hopeless character, driving Stephen to do the right thing, or the useful thing. “I can set up a fundraiser page online, if you don’t have to spend another night in here, it shouldn’t be the largest medical cost ever incurred…” Stephen gave a reassuring smile to Bill, who shook his hand in return, smiling eyes returning to him.

“Thanks.”

 

After another hour or so, Bill was released from the hospital with stern instructions on how to care for his smoke inhalation, a new change of clothes Stephen had gotten for him, and an extremely steep medical Bill. As the two walked to the nearest bus stop, Bill expressed his frustrations with hospitals and health care.

“Are you kidding me?! 2,890 dollars for one night in the hospital a bottled water, and some aspirin-…” The blonde sneered, being cut off by his more soft-spoken friend.

“Bill, your voice. But I understand, and that’s why I’m going to help you out.” Stephen gave him a reassuring glance as they reached the bus bench and sat down.

Bill crossed his arms and broke their gaze, frowning. They sat in relative silence for a few minutes as they waited for the 11:30 bus, Stephen making sure the other was keeping hydrated. Evidently, the bus came a few minutes late, the mildly disgruntled passengers swarming it as it pulled up to the stop.

 

Northwest’s suspicious voice sounded as the two arrived back on the sixth floor. “And you two were where?” Bill cringed slightly at the sudden questioning, opening his mouth to speak before Stephen jumped to speak for the other, knowing he had much better credibility. “Bill had a fire in his apartment and was hospitalized, and they contacted me on my way to work to come see him. I’m sorry, boss, I was worried for his safety. He didn’t appear to have any other contacts.”

“Alright, fine, but I don’t like it. Please attempt to email or call me next time, okay? And you,” Northwest’s piercing gaze darted towards Bill. “don’t bother your coworkers with such things. Get someone else. We don’t need two workers out of office.”

Bill gave him a nod of acknowledgement, holding back rage about the other’s insensitive statement, and Stephen replied, begrudgingly cooperating. Of course, their boss wasn’t taking the time to be sympathetic or understanding of the situation as a whole.

With that, the two parted ways, arriving at their respective rooms. Bill begun to look through the Pines case once again, analyzing the data he had collected the day before. There was this intuition in his mind that spoke to him, raising red flags about Ford in relation to his case, but he ignored that and decided to look at it from multiple angles. The swabs he had taken appeared to be normal, and photographs with the same layout as taken on the day after the crime, but with less blood. It was evident that whoever did this or plotted to was able to cover up their tracks exceedingly well. Bill arose the prospect of a hitman of some kind, writing that messily down on his right hand. If only he could get to that basement.

 

Dipper Pines had just woken up around this time, having washed off the marks from the previous day when he took his morning shower. As he was making coffee, he noted the appearance of the strange, messy writing once again, stating “hitman?” This freaked him out to the point where he almost asked his great uncle about it but decided keeping it under wraps might be best.

“Dipper, I’m heading out for a while to pick up some groceries and gather materials, do you want anything?” Ford’s voice sounded out after a door opening, Dipper jumping slightly with surprise.

A long, thinking “uhhhhhhhhhhhh….” came from the teen before he responded. “Some more sugar would be good, and if you’re going out for spell materials in the forest, try to get some poison mushrooms? I need them for a…thing.” The brunette spoke with a louder than average inside voice, the older man being in the other room.

Ford didn’t particularly question the request, knowing Dipper was always experimenting and investigating something. “No problem, I’ll be back around four.” The older left with a wave, Dipper yelling “drive safe!” after him. As the other pulled out of the driveway, Dipper glanced back down at his hand, brow furrowing with a disgruntled groan. “Who are you?” he whispered to himself questioningly.

And then he recalled his plans to call the other if his uncle had left, cheeks flushing with a peculiar rage. “Shit.”

 

Stephen sighed as he haphazardly dropped his things, sitting down in his chair heavily. He stared at his blank computer screen, blinking a few times, before deeming himself unable to concentrate. He wasn’t one to enjoy being in trouble, as he wasn’t used to it, the feeling made his throat tight. So, he decided to call up his sister.

His hands tremored slightly as he typed in her number, knowing the key tones by heart. It rang thrice before she picked up, giving a friendly “Hey, Steph, how are you doing?”

“I’m alright, Sebastiana…” The younger trailed off slightly, worry evident in his voice.

“I know that tone. What troubles you, little bro? I got all day.” Sebastiana, being Stephen’s older sister, proved herself to be respectful, accommodating, and exceedingly kind to her little brother. She was always the wise type, offering valuable insight in situations that Stephen would have trouble dealing with. She understood people on a profound level.

Stephen sighed slightly, gathering his words before speaking, He knew how he exerted his stress, and that was through babbling, but he wouldn’t get the right advice by speaking that way. “I have a new friend at work, Bill, I told you about him last night.” He paused to breathe.

“Yeah, you were worried because of his mood and the alcohol.”

“Yeah,” Stephen sighed slightly at her failure to mention the cigarettes, he knew the calls at the office were especially monitored. “Apparently, he blacked out last night, and there was a fire in his apartment, he had to spend the night in the hospital. I got the call this morning and had to run over there to see him.” The teen rubbed his temples.

“Wait, did you have to change your commute?” Sebastiana questioned, concerned that the reason he seemed so upset was that Northwest yelled at him again.

“Yeah, I didn’t get to work, and calling my boss about it completely slipped my mind and I was too worried and god, I’m so stupid…” his concluding comment came out as only a whisper.

“Aww, c’mon, no you’re not, you’re just my little bro. You were just concerned, and you know well that he never really sees anything for what it is. If you’re not in trouble, then who cares, right Steph? It’s okay.” The sister smiled a bit as she concluded her statement, which could be heard with a slight annunciation change.

“I know, I just got the feeling…I get the feeling…I don’t know. I feel like I’m ridiculous, or I’m doing something wrong, or…and I don’t know Bill very well yet and I can’t really tell if he’s the type I should be helping because he doesn’t really have anyone else and you know how mom always told us to be considerate of others and how lucky we….” He was interrupted by his sister.

“Stephen.” She was a bit harsher now. “You’re making the right choice, no one can blame you for doing the right thing, and I think-…” her voice was cut off by three rings, indicating that another call was coming through. “…-and screw him if he doesn’t understand.”

“Sebastiana, I’m getting another call, love ya, I’ll call you back. And thanks.” Stephen knew that work-related calls were more important than his personal calls, generally, and this wasn’t the first time a call with his sister was cut short. He transferred calls, answering in his best I’m-not-emotionally-stressed-out-right-now-at-all-representatives-voice. “Hello, this is the Portland’s Detective Bureau, how may I direct your call?”

An obviously slightly anxious and hesitant voice rang out from the other end. “Uh…um, I’m Dipper Pines with the renewed murder case, I was given this number and told I could speak with the detective that came to my house yesterday?” Stephen recognized the voice, having worked on the case briefly when he first started his internship. “Of course, we actually just supplied him with an office phone, so I can transfer you right over.” He was quick to do so, not wanting to be on the phone with the teen for much longer than he had to be.

Bill’s phone rang, and he picked it up, speaking relatively casually, but as he was instructed.

“This is Bill Cipher, detective and interrogator, how may I help you today?”

Dipper was shocked at the name, feeling slightly dizzy at it’s mention. He realized that he hadn’t asked for the detective’s name previously. They couldn’t be the same person, right? It must be just a coincidence, the blonde considered, not realizing he wasn’t speaking after Bill’s question.

“Uh…hello?”


	8. The Sociopath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry about the recent delays. After tomorrow, updates may be slowing down with band and school and all, and this fic is carrying out much longer than I expected it to. Hello to my new readers, and thanks! The previous post-it note joke in chapter five goes to honey-nut-fearios on tumblr (I can't remember her ao3 right now, oops), as well as Bill's "dollface" nickname for Dipper. She's contributed a lot to this fic and I'm so blessed to have her as a friend!! So a big shoutout to her. Anyway, this chapter is fairly happy, until, you know, it's not.  
> Enjoy!! -Will

Ford strolled through the supermarket, pricing various items and glancing at his messily handwritten list. As he arrived at the bakery and bulk foods section, he witnessed a strange duo, not particularly recognizing them at first sight. It wasn’t often Ford went outside, anyway.

One with artificially colored navy-blue hair of moderate length for someone appearing to be masculine lifted up the top of the plastic bagel container with the plan to retrieve a few. As he opened it, the top broke off and slammed right back down, the teen looking absolutely terrified, letting out a loud “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to, I…” A store employee soon came to their aid, reassuring them that the plastic was just stuck on cheaply and that it wasn’t their fault. “Did…did I break it…?” The young person seemed completely frozen, face flushed.

“Romeo, you good?” A friendly voice sounded from behind one of the bulk food barrels, a young woman with short hair peering out from behind. “Uh, I, I…” the blue-haired teen faltered.

“It’s okay, you can get your bagels, we’ll fix this, don’t worry about it. Not the first time it’s happened.” The employee gave the younger a reassuring smile, and Romeo nodded and bit his lip, retrieving what he desired and shuffling over to his friend. He gritted his teeth and slinked back his posture, looking away from those who were staring at him.

“Romeo, you’re okay, right? It’s okay, you’re fine. Let’s go find Sol, okay?” The woman spoke reassuringly as they darted off, the short haired seeming exceedingly flushed and nervous, the other doing her best to reassure him. “Yeah, Avery, it’s just, you…y-you know…sorry…”

Ford couldn’t hear any more of their conversation as they walked further away, and he noted himself being one of the worst culprits of staring. He also recognized the band shirt the bluenette owned, being one of Dipper’s shirts as well. But, he disregarded it, shrugging and walking into one of the bulk foods aisles to pick up the sugar Dipper requested.

He ran into them again in the checkout line, this time another man with them, looking to be about five foot seven, with lovely aqua eyes and black hair. He made puns in Spanish with the woman, evidently named Avery, as their very nervous companion bagged their groceries with remarkable speed. Ford could only assume the man’s name was Sol as the woman had mentioned earlier. Typically, the older man was impatient with waiting, but the bluenette seemed to be doing his best to finish his job, the other two paying as he finished up.

Romeo glanced up from his work momentarily to check if there were others in line, and upon proving his suspicion correct, gritted his teeth and mumbled “shit,” before speeding up his already quickened pace.

The young man’s voice sounded. “Romeo, you’re alright. There’s another section, you don’t have to rush. Sol then gave the other a sweet smile, patting the other’s hand gently. Romeo cracked a smile himself, blushing slightly and managing to finish up the job before Ford’s turn even began. As they left, Ford gave the group an acknowledging smile and a nod, and Avery smiled back at him, the other two seeming a bit distracted on focusing on…calming one down.

“That’ll be $104.79. Do you want cash back?” The friendly employee inquired.

“Nah, I’m using a credit card…” Ford replied quietly.

The transaction was completed, Ford casually walking outside and filling his trunk with groceries. He was coincidentally parked a few spots away from the trio, Romeo loading their groceries into the trunk, Avery putting the cart back and getting into the driver’s seat of the car. Sol waited outside for Romeo, kissing his cheek after the bluenette closed the trunk, Romeo giving a small laugh and returning the kiss. They filed into the car afterwards, not realizing they had run into the same man three times.

“A nice couple,” Ford mumbled to himself in support of them, but couldn’t shake his suspicions of one that one boy, Romeo. Ford’s intuition proved to be exceedingly good at times, and something just didn’t sit right with him about that boy. Maybe he just seemed like he needed some kind of treatment or went through trauma. The older man shook his head and dismissed it, eventually finishing with his own task and driving off.

He was on his way to the forest, pulling into what he deemed his ‘secret parking spot.’ “Now, to find those mushrooms…and…” he pulled the crumpled list from his pocket. “Ah, yes!” and he was on his way.

 

“I’m sorry, what was your name?” The brunette’s nervous voice sounded from the other side, and immediately Bill’s face dropped. He didn’t know it was Dipper, he didn’t care enough to use his intuition about such thing. He knew he couldn’t lie now, gritting his teeth and quickly formulating a trick.

“Bill Cipher, what’s the problem?” The blonde played it extremely cool, knowing what the other planned to say next, mouthing the words as he said it.

“And how do you spell that?”

“B-I-L-L C-Y-P-H-E-R.”

“O-oh. Maybe it’s not…never mind. I apologize. Anyway, I called to tell you that my great uncle left for a few hours, and you can come examine the basement. If he returns, I’ll have a way out for you, no worries.” Dipper played nice, planning to get more information out of the blonde than that.

“Oh, no problem! I’ll head over straight away, I should be there in about 40 minutes. Thanks for your call.” Bill hung up courteously, grinning to himself. Things seemed to be looking up for him, the fire issue was resolved, his throat and lungs were healing, and he was going to see his favorite—and only—client. He stopped to fill his water before heading out, also gathering a couple of supplies and various items about the case. As he stepped to head out, someone arrived onto their floor.

It was Sol, a former intern who had been promoted to assistant boss and given a steady job at the bureau, and all Bill knew about Sol was that he was a super funny dude that you really needed to make good with to get good with by the boss. Bill wasn’t particularly concerned about being good with the boss, he just liked Sol for certain aspects, yet absolutely despised him for others. The feeling was mutual, as proved by their proceeding interaction.

The man with aqua eyes gave Bill a friendly “Hey there!” and a wave, Bill only now noticing his companion. For a split second, the blonde’s mind raced, wondering if the other should be classified as an unknown, but then seeing the blue haired teen’s certified nametag. He was there as a type of informal plus-one for Sol and was already verified by the bureau as safe.

“Hey, Sol, how’s it going? Who’s your friend?” Bill replied casually, the innuendo of the whole thing keenly evident in his voice.

Romeo seemed to shy away slightly, ears reddening as he glanced at the floor. “Hey, don’t call him out like that. This is my partner, Romeo, a 408.” The code indicated he was a verified plus-one and had attended the office before.

“Romeo, what a lovely name. And how fitting, considering that sweet grimace of yours. You’re almost as resentful as the original,” Bill snickered and gave an unmistakable smirk, tapping the bluenette’s nose as he walked by, making him flinch hard out of initial fear and eventual distaste. “Leave him alone, jerkoff,” Sol called out behind him, sounding playfully rude to his coworker, but being more serious than Bill assumed. Sol didn’t like those who stepped out of line, especially when it had to do with his partner.

As the duo strode towards Sol’s office and Bill trudged in the opposite direction, terrible posture and all, a trail of black flame crawled behind him.

Stepping into the elevator and examining his hands out of boredom during the ride, Bill noticed something odd. His left hand possessed a lavender luminescence, before bursting into black flames, but not searing ones. The flame resided almost as soon as they appeared, a note written in all capital letters being left behind.

“WE’RE HAVING A TALK. -R”

“So, Romeo is, in fact, more than he seems to be. As I presumed.” Bill considered to himself snidely. “Alright, you’re on.”

With his final thought, Bill casually stepped from the elevator, as if his hand hadn’t been on fire just a few seconds beforehand.

 

Upon arriving to Dipper’s house, Bill rapped on the door, the teen opening it with suspicious haste, letting the other in quickly. The blue streak in his hair was slightly more faded than in the previous day.

“Coffee, would you like any coffee, perhaps food?” The brunette offered kindly, pretending the altercation they had before parting ways the day before hadn’t occurred.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” it was evident from the blonde’s voice why, it sounded restricted and cracked much more easily. Dipper’s brow lowered with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, there was just…a minor fire in my apartment last night. Smoke inhalation and all, you know the deal, I mean hell, you live in a forest.” Bill gave a small chuckle and a cocky smile.

“I do, true, but luckily fires are few and far between here, and anyway most of them are caused by…well, you know…people. Specifically…us.” Dipper trailed off slightly, although past the point of no return and he knew it damn well, being around a detective and all.

“Oh, really? Pray tell, dollface. Loving the shirt, by the way, a coworker’s friend came in today wearing the exact same one.” Bill remarked on Dipper’s ‘Sleeping With Sirens’ shirt, similar to that of Romeo’s. In fact, their whole style was similar, but Romeo appeared slightly punkier.

Dipper gave a nervous laugh and nodded, expression contorting into one confused as he realized the strange pet name. “Perhaps just foreign…or a strange fixation?” the brunette considered.

They both approached various furniture, sitting across from each other. “Well, my great uncle and I carry out various…experiments and tests. Some of which have the potential to and…do go awfully wrong. But you didn’t hear it from me.” Dipper let out another nervous laugh, tips of his ears turning notably red.

“Interesting…” Bill grinned at the other, a priceless expression to be honest, and winked. Of course, Dipper had no idea what that meant, how to react to it, or why he found the other’s face and stature so absolutely intriguing. As he gazed about the other’s glowing freckles, sweetly combed hair and slender hands, Dipper came to a sickening and horrifying realization (at least, from his perspective).

Although strange and conceited, the detective was EXCEEDINGLY handsome. Dipper could even get past the name coincidence and assume it was a fluke, too busy marveling at the other upon his new discovery. And that’s exactly where Bill wanted him, it proved easy to fool the brunette through physics most basic illusion: good looks.

“Let’s talk some more, although I hate to admit it, this is…fun. I mean, with someone like you.” Bill took a slyer smile, obviously picking fun at the other.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Dipper took partially fake, partially real offence to the statement, having a subconscious need to place his hand to his chest for exaggeration. The fake offence was from knowing Bill was absolutely right in the fact he could be a downer sometimes, and even having jokingly insulted himself for the same thing, but slightly insulted at the fact that it was coming out of the detective’s mouth, for a reason that could not be particularly identified.

“Oh, you know, it’s written all over your face.” Bill laughed, borderline cackling, and Dipper had a strange appreciation for the other’s boldness yet feeling put on the spot and invaded when the other pointed out his expression. The brunette shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Yet, he managed to resonate a small laugh.

Their causal conversation continued for a fair amount of time, the two finding themselves quite wrapped up with each other. Although Dipper seemed to be the one with the heaviest interest in the other, it was evident that Bill also had a strange interest in his client, appreciating his silliness as a human and louder than average thoughts. Their conversation also seemed to flow more sweetly as time went by, seeming to be almost ideal communicators in a strange way.

Of course, the blonde made sure to keep hydrated and took small breaks from speaking when he felt throat pain returning. Dipper glanced at the kitchen clock, exclaiming “Fuck, 2:37! How long do you think your search is going to take?”

Bill laughed slightly at the brunette’s causal use of an explicative. It made them seem more casual, closer. The blonde stood up and strolled casually nearer to the other’s seat. “It shouldn’t be very long, no worries. Although, I’d like to speak after if we have some time…” the blonde was almost uncomfortably close to the other’s face, eyelids lowering as he smirked with amusement, Dipper almost giving the other a ‘deer in the headlights’ look.

“U-uh, yeah, you go do that, and make sure to uh…leave everything where you left it. I-I mean, leave everything where it was.” Dipper stared at the other, not being able to break from the blonde’s heterochromia. The brunette’s cheeks and ears were acutely red.

“Oh, I will.” Bill seemed to be even closer, Dipper could swear he could feel the heat of the other’s breath on his face, or perhaps that was an illusion. With that, the blonde stood tall and gathered his materials, wandering into the basement and leaving the door open behind him.

“C-cool, I’ll just uh…be in….” Dipper trailed off as he realized the other probably couldn’t hear him any longer.

Almost subsequent with the time that Bill walked down the stairs, a loud gasp and a sharp slam of a briefcase could be heard. It was the blonde’s own affects that had fallen, the cause for the alarm being surprise and an overwhelming amount of his brother’s magic being present in the room. He hadn’t felt it in so long it seemed foreign yet all too familiar, the blonde’s heterochromia going wide with shock. The third eye on his forehead opened, luminescent with pastel blue light, which then reverted to a smoky crimson.

“Bill?! What’s wrong, did you break something?!” Dipper ran down the stairs, worried for the other’s health, or if Ford had come home.

“HIM.” Bill’s voice came out in a low, echoing grumble, what first seemed like fear but then being evident as pain and horror was present on his face, as well as his lowered stature. He slammed his palm against his head in agony, eyes appearing to lose their luster, before a low, jarring sound resonated from him. It first had no rhythm, then could be identified as some kind of strange laugh. Dipper was silent through the entire ordeal, watching in horror as his detective crush morphed into a cynical, resentful bastard.

 _“He thought he could get away with this? There is no escaping this, not with me roaming this earth.”_ The blonde’s voice seemed disordered, scratching a hand down the side of his face and running it through his now tussled hair.

_The Sociopath._

“Who thought they could get away with what? What did you find? A-are you feeling alright? Bill?!” Dipper couldn’t keep his silence longer, although his gut told him to run as far away as possible, his brain told him otherwise, and he gave in to the latter. His face and legs faltered, brain and instinct clashing as they screamed at him take completely different actions.

And at that moment, a car pulled into their driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the out of canon characters I've included are based off of friends, and even myself. You'll learn more about them as you go on, but as a small bonus, here's who they're dedicated to/based off of:  
> Romeo- Myself  
> Sol- My Boyfriend and coolest bud  
> Avery- One of my best online friends (honey-nut-fearios)  
> Sebastiana- A band buddy and good good friend  
> As more are introduced I'll cite them!


	9. Martyred Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a doozy to write. I had to figure out how to dig Bill out of the hole I stuck him in, oops. There is some depictions of blood and unsettling characters, so just a heads up. Also, don't rely to much on updates through the next two weeks, I'll try to update as often as possible but I don't know how difficult band rehearsals will be. Thanks for reading, and a big shoutout to those keeping me going with kind words! =)  
> -Will

Dipper formed a plan in his mind, figuring out each part and possibility as each step went by. He tried to talk, identifying quickly what this ‘persona’s’ intentions were and how he may be able to reason with it.

“Bill, I don’t know what or who you’re talking about, but my uncle just pulled into the driveway.” The brunette managed to stabilize his voice, speaking sternly.

 _“Even better, I’ll get to face him while the wound is cut at its deepest.”_ Bill sneered, taking in jagged, uneven breaths. His hands were clenched.

“But, wouldn’t it be better to formulate a plan before going batshit crazy?  You know, to exact revenge more effectively.” Dipper tried to reason, feeding into the persona’s self-centered motivations.

The thought that Dipper was awfully on board with the whole “getting revenge on his uncle” objective didn’t cross the demon’s disordered mind. He was too focused on his personal motives, considering Dipper’s point. _“Alright, let’s go.”_ The blonde’s voice almost came out as a dangerous whisper. They bolted up the stairs, Bill with his briefcase in hand, then up the second flight of stairs, Dipper shutting the demon inside his room just as the older man walked in. The brunette was panting, adrenaline getting to him.

Then, he glanced down to first his great uncle, then to the basement door that was clearly left open after their ordeal. Dipper’s eye twitched, his legs almost instinctually pushing him to move, but he knew that such an action would look extremely suspicious.

“Hey, can you please help with the gro-…” Ford set the bags he had on the kitchen counter, then his eyes bulging out as he came across the opened basement door. Dipper gritted his teeth, his mind rapidly rebooting and going through a gigantic list of excuses.

“You weren’t down there again, were you?” Ford seemed fairly calm on the surface, tone even, but Dipper knew what was coming.

“No sir, the detective returned while you were away and…” Dipper begun quietly, starting out with a truth, but knowing how to cover it up.

“You let him down there? With all of my equipment?! Are you fucking insane, child?!” The older became absolutely livid, Dipper’s stomach jumping at his scolding.

“No!! He opened the door and I immediately instructed him not to go down there!! As you told me to!” Dipper was quick to speak, retaliating at the prospect that he would have let someone down there, as he was, of course, a model child.

Ford began to calm down slightly, still suspicious of the whole thing, but letting it go. His story made sense. “Alright, if you say so, but if I find out otherwise, I swear to god, Mason, you’re never having one of these people over again.” He scolded still, working off steam from the initial hysteria.

Dipper ran downstairs, giving him an acknowledging “Of course,” and beginning to help with the groceries, being cautious not to touch the door unless requested as that would most likely trigger something in Ford. The older closed it on his own eventually, just as the brunette finished storing the groceries.

“So, is he still in the house?” It was evident Ford was acting a bit strange in his distaste with having his spaces invaded, but it could be understood with privacy issues and even his personality in general. He wasn’t particularly one to find enjoyment with sharing personal details with others.

“Yeah, he’s in my room, we were talking, and he was taking some data.” Dipper fibbed but acted fairly natural about it. The adrenaline was still pumping through him, changing the weak liar into a marvelously smooth one. Ford believed it, stating that if the teen needed to finish speaking with him, he was allowed to. “Thanks, I should only be a few minutes.” The brunette arose, focusing on keeping a fairly normal pace as he walked upstairs, fighting back his urge to bolt. He could feel Bill’s energy, and it was impatient.

Dipper gently walked in and closed the door behind him, locking it. He didn’t want Ford just walking in on them.

_“You’ve returned.”_

Bill’s voice was low and monotonous, apathy present, it seemed as if the blonde was attempting to calm himself down slightly with apathy.

“So I have. Listen, I managed to lie my way out of your presence downstairs. You need to get out of here now and act as natural as possible about it, do you understand?” Dipper’s tone was serious, he stared the other right in the face, although the other seemed cold and distant.

 _“You have to explain something first.”_ The blonde’s brow lowered.

Dipper sighed slightly with anxiety, wishing Bill would just leave, feeling his heavy burden. “Fine, fine.” He recalled that he was the one to resurrect this case, and he should own up to it. He took a seat on the bed across from the office chair that Bill had perched in.

 _“Do you recall a man of about my complexion and body type, but a bit shorter and pastel blue hair being present in your dreams or in real life?”_ Bill spoke precisely, it seemed like he had asked this question to multiple people.

Dipper considered for a second, finding the question slightly odd. “I remember seeing someone similar in my dreams, yes.”

 

It started flooding back to him, all that was needed was a prick of influence. The strange dreams that plagued him and his sister, evidently for the four months predating her death. What sounded like cries for help, but they were so silenced, they could be interpreted any way one’s psyche bended them. A man, seeming to be a martyred angel, appearing blurrily in their dreams and telling them something in a language they didn’t know, frustrated when they didn’t understand. The angel’s eyes were the fuzziest feature, almost as if there was solely skull definition and no eyes. It would always be rapidly phased away by some outside force, and both of the twins would wake up in unison in a cold sweat at the dream’s end.

It wasn’t the first time Dipper and Mabel had gone through events of the paranormal, especially relating to dreams, so they refused to think much of it for their own sake. They didn’t particularly escalate past the point of jumbled messages and strange illusions except for one night in particular, that being the night exactly one week before Ford planned to leave for his trip to California. The angel appeared again, screaming at the twins for help, features more prevalent than ever. Toffee skin, silver freckles, pastel blue hair, an overly slender, borderline starved stature of about six feet, with lovely golden wings. The eyes were torn out and bleeding, a third eye on its forehead appearing to be sewn shut. “…apathy will kill…don’t listen to him….spit it out, spit it out…can’t see…where is he…help me….please…apathy will kill, apathy will kill.” It was the only English the twins could understand, the rest in the cryptic language that frustrated them so. The twins tried to escape from the dream as they usually did, but some kind of force was holding them back, almost as if they were chained to the illusion.

Suddenly, the dream went to static, the angel’s screaming having become more and more frantic before disappearing entirely, the dream’s chains disappearing before they awoke sharply, both having cried in their sleep. They were temporarily blind, despite the moonlight that was creeping in the window, and managed to find each other for support. They made sure they had exactly the same dream, hugging each other and rocking back and forth, mumbling petrified jumbles of words to each other. They felt a strange aura of loss, sinking in the pit of their stomachs, almost as if pieces were torn from them forcibly.

Alas, the twins concluded it was simply a strange night terror, probably by some lonely ghost that wanted to play tricks on them for its own entertainment. So, they left it alone, dreams never returning afterward. Dipper had completely forgotten about it after Mabel had died.

 

 _“Answer me.”_ Bill’s voice rang out sharply after the thirty seconds Dipper had taken to reflect, each second the brunette looked more mortified than the last, face draining of color.

“I-I-I…” his brain failed to reboot, he felt acutely dizzy and unstable, eyes twitching involuntarily. “I did…it…” Dipper took a deep breath, sensing something strange in the room and beginning to panic, before his mind calmed down. “…might take a…a while…”

The brunette passed out, falling backwards onto the bed.

Bill gave a satisfied hum, face still reflecting no emotion as he walked over to the sleeping boy and straightened his body out on the bed. He was grateful the magic had worked.

 _“Oh, it won’t take a long as you think.”_ Bill mumbled to himself, placing a gentle, cool hand on the boy’s forehead, the blonde’s eyes widening as they were overtaken with cerulean light. He managed to retrieve the other’s massive flashback, being able to save every detail of it with perfect detail, as if his mind was some kind of a databank. He was able to recite it with speed, adequate enough memorization that he was pleased.

To purge his curiosity, Bill scrolled back through the teens thoughts, with their first interaction and their most recent with the light flirting and eventual mental break. He saw an extreme fondness, being pleased with his work at having successfully acclimated the brunette to admiring him. He erased and manipulated ones he wasn’t pleased with, not wanting Dipper to remember his dreams and the incident and tell Ford.

He erased the memory of the dreams and feeling dizzy before passing out, manipulating the one of him walking in as a few questions being held back and forth, Bill seeming to have calmed down, and Dipper falling asleep in the process of Bill’s data collection. He wrote a quick sticky note and stuck it on the brunette’s forehead, stating “You fell asleep while I was collecting data. I’d like to return when I can and check out the basement once again. Here’s my number:” followed by the blonde’s updated office phone number. With that, he gathered his belongings and left, the older man luckily downstairs as he did and completing a paranoid examination of his affects.

The blonde left without a word, getting on the bus practically waiting for him at the stop. He planned to return and have lunch with Stephen and Sol, and perhaps have that discussion with Romeo. But for now, he had to ponder his thoughts, scribbling down disordered elements of them as he reflected.

_“It’s definitely him.”_

 

Dipper awoke a few hours later, the smell of cooking food wafting through the house. There was also a particularly loud banging sound, in his dream, this was construction work.

“Dipper, for godssake, what are you doing in there? You’re too quiet!” Ford’s voice boomed from outside, the older slightly worried of two outcomes: the teen was dead or getting into some funny business with that strange detective.

The brunette shot out of bed and unlocked the door, T-shirt half twisted backwards, it was obvious the boy had been sleeping. The post-it note had fallen off with his jerky movements. “Sorry, sorry, I fell asleep! I’ll be down in a bit.” His voice was slightly slurred with sleep, eyes fuzzy.

“Quit falling asleep with the door locked. It worries me.” Ford got his final comment in before walking downstairs to serve up dinner. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t,” Dipper called after him, trudging closer to his bed to find his glasses, adjusting his shirt. As he walked, a paper stuck to his foot, and he bent down to grab it. “You fell asleep while I….” Dipper read the rest of the note in silence, realizing that the detective was gone once again. The brunette found it exceedingly suspicious that he just fell asleep, but it wouldn’t be the first time it happened, considering sleep deprivation and all. He couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing from his mind, like things didn’t go so smoothly as he remembered them, disconnects clearly between events.

He considered it was just his tired brain trying to process memories, and dismissed it, trudging down the stairs to help serve dinner.

Little did the brunette know what valuable information he had given to the humble detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, here's a link to the Sherlock soundtrack, there's an even more complete one on Spotify if you'd like to check it out. It helps me focus while I write and influences my ideas.  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLBRu9siBOXC2RtiJV5A8DKG5VTRB_VFWi


	10. Ghost Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the lack of updates over the last few days, and the short chapter I have today. I've been too tired to write. I hope you all enjoy finding out a little bit more about Romeo, their relationship will progress more, I promise. Warning, next chapter will most likely be very full of emotion, so you may want to prepare yourself for that. Thanks for reading.  
> -Will

Bill returned to the office looking absolutely frazzled, slowly coming to terms with the realization that had slapped him in the face earlier that day. However, he did find it pleasing that he came on earth to do one job and was able to do that job with relative ease, without much of fate and general mortal weaknesses getting in his way.

He strolled into his own office, grabbing a lemon and a few packets of sugar from the bag that he had brought, as well as retrieving his water bottle. The blonde then walked over to Sol’s office, knocking on the door five times, indicating his interest to meet with him for an extended period and that he was an employee under his rank. There was a muffled “Come in!” from the other worker.

Romeo was already present in the room, glancing up with a horrified alertness as the door was knocked on and opened. He almost looked sick, hands immediately beginning to shake wildly, before they settled down with Sol’s touch. A sketch was to the side of Sol’s desk, something the blue-haired boy was working on.

“No need for alertness, I know my entering of the room is very important, but you needn’t cater to my needs,” Bill smirked at the younger as he expressed his gravitas, Romeo looking up at him with a first unsettled and apprehensive look, but then with a morose grimace. “Oh, shut up, dude.”

Bill was a bit taken aback at hearing the other’s voice for the first time, as it was at a slightly higher range than would be considered for most post-puberty males. Bill’s suspicions grew that Romeo was not what he seemed, even feeling the waves of his energy changing with his passing moods. “Alright then. Mind if I take a seat?” the blonde replied smoothly.

Romeo knew he had to strategize a bit with this person if he was to get his inquiry across. “Go ahead,” the blue-haired replied softly, putting out an accommodating hand.

“You’re here to have lunch with us, I assume?” Sol turned around from the papers he was filing, a natural smile resting on his very symmetrical face. When Bill glanced down at the drawing, it was evident that the sketch was of Romeo’s presumed boyfriend, and it wasn’t half bad. “Yeah, if you’d have me.” Bill concluded with a chuckle, giving a side eye to Romeo, who simply rolled his eyes.

The two taller men pulled out their respective lunches, Bill beginning to peel his lemon. Sol shook his head and chuckled lightly, stating “You’re a strange one, alright.” Bill simply smiled and focused on his work, closing his blind eye. He noted that Romeo didn’t have anything to eat and just continued with his sketch, one headphone in.

“You aren’t joining us? Did you just eat?” Bill inquired, simply curious more than having a sinister intent by asking the question.

“U-uhh...I, I don’t, uh…” the shorter was obviously slightly taken aback by the question. He was a bit chubby, having particularly big hips. “I…I’m fine. Really.”

Sol gave a narrowed side eye to his significant other. “Principe…are you doing this again?” A sweet pet name for the other, it seemed.

“N-no!! I’m really not hungry, I’m too anxious to eat, I’d just look bad, I-…” Romeo nervously sipped his coffee, which turned into frantic drinking as he polished off at least one-fifth of the thirty-ounce cup. He shifted fretfully in his seat, clearly struggling to make eye contact with the other two in the room.

Sol gave a small sigh and patted the other’s hand, nodding. “Promise me you’ll eat later, please?” Romeo nodded quickly, giving him an acknowledging half smile before going back to sketching.

Bill quietly watched the whole ordeal play out, something about Romeo seeming very off. His sex wasn’t particularly clear, the extreme anxiety and harshness seemed strange, not to mention his ability. Bill glanced down for the note on his hand, which had faded away since he had entered the room. The blonde’s eyebrow shot up, seeing Romeo wasn’t one to be carelessly obvious with magic. He admired it in a certain way.

“You’re awfully quiet, Bill,” Sol commented partially sarcastically, being one to try to include all members in a conversation. “I mean, for you.”

“I guess I am. There’s been quite a bit on my mind, the case I’m working on sure is…intriguing…” Bill’s face soured slightly as he flashed back to what Dipper had told him, and the memories he had seen. What his brother’s magic felt like, after feeling barren of it for so long. It brought back events and feelings that were all too familiar to Bill.

The blonde recalled coming to the conclusion fully in conscious that the reason he acted with such confidence and haughtiness was his personal self-consciousness with knowing he was simply a creation of his brother. He knew he was only a small part of the whole equation, but it would be logically difficult for a creation based off the sheer emotions of jealousy, rage, and borderline dastardly intent to not want to cover up the fact they were just those things, and nothing but. It was easier to hide when having two halves, the twins just seeming to have opposite personalities, when the truth was that Will’s intentions were more sinister than they seemed, he did not appreciate it, and he was egotistical enough to create another unbalanced life form to force those poor qualities onto.

“Well look where it got you now, Will,” Bill mumbled to himself, inaudible to Sol, but completely audible to Romeo. The blue-haired boy set down his pencil lightly, as he had already been looking at the other as soon as Sol mentioned him. It was obvious the gears were turning in his head, a particularly thoughtful glint in his eye as he processed the information, taking in relation absolutely everything he had collected about the other so far. Then, it hit the shorter in the face like a ton of bricks, but he managed to not show it on his typically quite animated face.

“Bill, are you-…” Sol’s words were cut off by Bill’s low mumble, this time audible to the both of them. “What are you staring at, ghost boy?”

Romeo retaliated at the name, sucking air through his teeth and involuntarily pulling back away from the other. “Don’t you dare.” Romeo’s eyes were narrowed, brow furrowed with disgust. He despised that name, reasons unclear to Sol, but completely clear to Bill. Bill knew who he was, he had known as soon as he saw him with his co-worker, but his mind hadn’t enabled him to accept it until this moment.

Sol looked between the two, taking a cue before Romeo could even say anything to him. The dark-haired man was finished with his lunch anyway. “Can you give those papers to Stephen, please, dear?” Romeo’s voice came out sweetly, yet with an edge to them, clearly a code for Sol to get out of the room for a few minutes. “Of course, love,” the other obeyed, grabbing one of the folders he had been previously filing and briskly marched out, shutting the door lightly behind him.

The room was quiet for a few minutes, both parties deeply processing the previous occurrence. The gears were turning in their heads, eyes narrowed to each other. Bill decided to speak, feeling as if it was the right thing to say at the right time.

“So, does he know?” The blonde inquired casually. Romeo snapped his fingers, temporarily disabling all the cameras and recording devices in the room. “Nope. He just thinks I have extremely good intuition and a miraculous talent for the arts. Same with Avery, not sure if you’ve met her yet.” Romeo kept his face to a resting grimace.

Bill sat back in his seat and chuckled slightly, resting his hands on his stomach. “I have met her once, she thinks I’m the funniest thing to grace this planet. I noted you were discreet about your magic, which I appreciate, I will admit,” Bill put a hand to his chest and bowed his head slightly.

“And?” Romeo raised an eyebrow. “You know me, I know you, and I know your brother. Let’s just get this over with.”

Bill concurred, realizing they wouldn’t be able to keep the recording devices off for too long before someone noticed. “Yes, you heard my comment, correct? He died a couple years back. I made a deal to infiltrate this world to get some closure on his death at least.” Bill kept serious as well, he knew Romeo wasn’t one to enjoy minutia.

“Because you were missing your other half. My guess is that you developed what could be described medically as dissociative identity disorder, from Will’s selfish decision to make an entity created out of pure spite, victimizing, wrath, rage, and sinister intent. Considering your voice, you probably accidentally drank too much and set whatever living situation you have on fire, and then had to be taken to the hospital, the reason why Stephen, one of your only friends in the office, seemed so stressed out today when speaking with his sister on the phone. I know because I was just messaging Sebastiana, who was expressing her concerns to me about Stephen and told me to ‘maybe draw him something nice or something, I don’t know, he really likes your art.’ Also, although you prefer not to admit it, you absolutely despised the fact that you were trapped away from being in control of where he was and what was happening to him, leading to your pure rage about the situation.” Romeo didn’t miss a beat, speaking fluidly until the end of his seemingly endless statement.

“Easy on the apartment fire thing, they don’t know the truth. But yes, thanks for not making me say that out loud. And I’m not saying that sarcastically, either.” Bill slouched in his chair comfortably, almost feeling happy about being able to talk with someone familiar. He mumbled under his breath. “Wow, you’re almost better at my job than I am.”

“Alright, then you gotta stop calling me ghost boy. Not in front of him. We both know what I did, and we both know that I’m absolutely not proud of it. Now, hold up your end of the deal, alright?” Romeo gave him a sinister yet genuine grin, patting the other’s hand where the note had appeared previously.

“Deal.” The blonde replied confidently.

Romeo snapped, the recording devices switching back on just before the security man on floor B2 went to check if they were still active. “And here’s my number. I’d like to help, I mean, if you want a loser like me helping.”

Bill chuckled slightly, taking the poorly written note from the other. “Alright, I might take you up on that. You manage to approach these things with much more apathy than I could ever imagine.” The blonde stood up, light on his feet, and tossed out his used paper bowl and plastic utensils, as well as the lemon peels. Before he left, he turned on his heel.

“And hey. Nice to see you again, I guess.” Bill cracked a half smile and shrugged.

Romeo shook his head slightly and lowered his eyelids. “Nice to see you too. Remember to tell Sol you’re okay.”

“No problem.” He did a lame salute before walking out, leaving the door cracked open.

Deep inside, seeing Romeo again was the last thing Bill wanted to do in this world. But, the blonde wasn’t able to admit that to himself just yet.


	11. The Deadliest Weapon: Overanalysis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I'm so sorry for not posting in so long. If you saw my small update chapter, things have been stressful, but I haven't forgotten about this! I will try to finish it in the next couple weeks, but this is simply an aspiration. The next two chapters may be emotionally wearing, so please read with caution. Thank you to everyone who stood by this work even in my absence and continue to enjoy it. -Will

Stephen sweetly awoke to the glaring sun, casting pools of yellow light in his eyes. Rubbing his face of sleep, he haphazardly put on his dirty glasses and glanced at the time.

“NO!” A sharp yell was heard from the almost adult male as he tripped over himself attempting to pull on an acceptable pair of pants. Sebastiana rushed into his room, furiously knocking on the door.

“What the hell- are you okay in there? Steph?” She attempted to turn the knob, but it was clearly locked. With any more adrenaline induced strength, she may have been able to break it.

“Y-y-yes, I’m fine! Just EXCEEDINGLY late!” He ran frantically across the room, almost faceplanting from a wild trip. The time was 1:37 PM, Stephen unsure how he could have slept that way.

“You do realize it’s Saturday, yes?”

“I’m sorry-..?”

“Bro…it’s Saturday. I always come over on Friday night.” Sebastiana laughed slightly to herself, leaning affectionately against the door.

“O-oh…oh my god. Good god-…” the man sighed and moved to put his pajamas back on, revealing himself looking exceptionally frazzled and tired.

Sebastiana only had to take one look at him before recognizing how dire this situation may be. “No, this is unacceptable.” Her tone darkened, a serious one that she did not require herself to use often. “We’re having a talk.” She grabbed her brother’s arm, dragging him into the living room.

A still steaming cup of coffee resided on the ottoman in their room, as well as a half-consumed orange pastry. She sat him down, biting her lip as she tried to calm herself. Recognizing that she was being much too harsh on her already stressed brother, Sebastiana sat down calmly and glanced at the succulents on the windowsill, breathing shallowly.

Stephen was almost too tense to speak, only managing to slip out a broken “What’s up, sis?” He bounced his knee nervously, gripping his hands together in a neat ball.

“I…” Sebastiana faltered, the terms alluding her. “This job is concerning me,” she began explicitly, “and…I don’t think anyone working there is a good influence. It’s always a wild card.”

Stephen immediately attempted to defend himself, blurting out near-nonsense. “No, you don’t understand, this is my life’s passion, I-I, I need to tolerate this if I’m going into real research, I-I’ll…”

His sister gazed at him gently. “Listen to me, please. Your intolerance of these situations…it’s written all over your face, even as we talk now. Your voice is riddled with horror on the phone when you call me from work. The hiding business…it isn’t for you.”

Stephen’s mind began to spiral back to blind defense, exclaiming whatever phrase sounded most striking yet true. “I can’t quit this now! I-I’ll…I’ll have nothing left to live for-…” he cut himself off abruptly as he saw the absolute shift in his sister’s expression, one he had seen only on quite select occasions. Except, this face had never been directed at him.

Her face was one of blind anger and betrayal. Sebastiana clenched her jaw, deciding the shrivel of love she still had for her brother was worth enough to spare him, at least, to the extent of his surface sanity. “No, I’m leaving. That’s fucking it.” She felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she stomped over to her belongings, gathering everything arbitrarily and tossing them in her suitcase.

“What the hell do you mean- what-…what did I say?!” He yelled at her frantically, eyes shooting wide from her exaggerated reaction. As she zipped up her suitcase, she gave him two final phrases of wisdom.

“I will leave you with this, Stephen.” The absolute wrath in her voice was evident through her sneer and clenched teeth. “Always remember that you’ve said enough. And secondly, if you don’t want to turn out like Romeo and Sol, I recommend that you come to me with a very fucking good apology.” She turned on her heel, bursting out the door and slamming it behind her, walking as briskly as possible down the hall. She refused to give him a proper goodbye.

Stephen sunk to his knees, absolutely shocked by the escalation of the situation. Guilt hit him as if he was smacked with a two by four, dizzyingly empty yet so overwhelmingly full of regret. He grinded his teeth, finding himself staring at nothing at particular on the ground.

After what seemed like an absolutely empty eternity to him, he rose to his feet and checked his phone, the apprehension of the whole situation flipping his insides. “That’s what I had to do today…” he mumbled incoherently to himself. Stephen texted back Romeo. [I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Also, we need to talk about something…personal. On my end.]

He wandered into the bathroom in attempts to make himself look acceptable, seeing his sister’s brush that she had left behind in her haste. Feeling the twisting in his stomach that almost drove him to tears, he resolved to only use mouthwash and finish getting ready in his room.

 

Romeo sat at the poignant outdoor café, cleaning his thick glasses with a shirt that was clearly not the right material, cursing slightly as he placed them back on his face. He scoffed at the fact that they appeared to be dirtier than before, resolving to just try his best to adjust to his clouded vision.

He tapped his fingers with an unknown anticipation, absolutely putting down his coffee. After he finished, Romeo considered going back in and getting a refill, but know that Stephen would come at the moment he left, with his sour luck. From afar, he viewed a medium figure descending the stairs of the apartment building across the street, assuming that would be him.

Romeo let his head rest lazily in one hand, deciding not to anticipate the other’s arrival too pointedly. Stirring his leftover ice around with his straw, he heard a repetitive voice. “ _Wrong day, wrong day, wrong day, wrong day-…_ ” There was breaks to the effects of resets between them, Romeo shaking his head.

“Hey, Romeo-…oh, you look…uh.” Stephen cut himself off as he glanced down at the other, sitting in the chair across from the blue-haired boy at the small circular table.

“I know, don’t worry about it. Carry on with your thing.” Romeo raised his gaze slightly to meet the other’s, his olive eyes being unusually clouded, this not being from either of their dirty glasses.

“A-alright. Well, Sebastiana was really worried today, or something and…I said something bad and…” Stephen sighed, fearing of setting the other off by using excessive words, it being previously established that Romeo hated minutia.

“And…?” Romeo’s eyes fixed with curiosity.

“She became very upset and left too quickly for me to ask questions, saying that I’ve always ‘said enough,’ or something. And then…she mentioned you two, and your, you know, thing. So that leads me to why we arranged this in the first place.” Stephen took a sharp breath in and shifted his gaze nervously. It was a stretch to say he was afraid of the sixteen-year-old, but he definitely wasn’t entirely comfortable.

If only Stephen knew how remarkably good his intuition was.


	12. If You're Concerned, It's Too Late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second chapter I'm uploading today. BIG Warnings for this one! Suicide and themes related, mental abuse mentions, and vomiting. This is a direct continuation of the scene from the last chapter, I just decided this was a nice place to split it. Enjoy, and if I have any new readers, welcome! Please tell me what you think in the comments, I absolutely adore everyone's feedback! -Will

“Hey, not so fast. I’m going to advise you a little, I guess.” Romeo averted his gaze, shutting his eyes slightly and trying to balance out his breathing. He heard his pulse in his ears, mostly from the coffee. “Did she ask for an apology or give you the option to?”

“Yeah, she said that I needed a good one, but made it sound like I could apologize…” Stephen trailed off, trying to recall exactly.

“That’s definitely better than it could be. Now…the exact phrase alludes me.” Romeo folded his hands in thought. “…the best way would be to analyze the situation. I know you to say things bold, but in the improper situations, no offense, by the way.” He paused to gather his thoughts and analyze the other’s expression. “She may have overreacted slightly too, so you must keep this in mind that she’ll most likely be calmer when you talk to her later. Your goal is to not become defensive or fight, it’s to hear each other’s opinions and see where misunderstandings may be. If you can find discrepancy, you’re golden.” Romeo waved his hand casually and closed his eyes after delivering his advice, praying it was helpful.

“That’s…you’re exactly right. I don’t know how you picked up that much from a…wild description, but I appreciate it. Thanks.” Stephen cracked a smile at the other, hoping the other would smile at least once during their conversation.

Romeo reciprocated the smile, the trueness of it being seen in his expressive eyes. “Any time, man…” he trailed off slightly, hearing incessant ticking in his ears, paired with a backbeat of rings. He began to feel dizzy but only showed it through his fallen expression.

“Now…you. What troubles you? And…I hate to be invasive, what exactly happened?” Stephen turned his head to the side slightly with curiosity.

“Well…” Romeo began, disdain with scheduling this meeting clear on his face. “I-…uh,” the usually articulate boy faltered, feeling a draining within him, almost not knowing where to start.

Stephen remained attentive, giving him a tip. “Maybe talk about…your partner first.”

Romeo cringed slightly, knowing how to talk about that. He didn’t exactly hate his ex but didn’t particularly appreciate him. “Apparently he’s a bit more conservative than I previously interpreted. I found this out when someone, I’m not entirely sure who,” he lowered his voice to a mumble, “but I do have a pretty good guess, spilled about my identity. This leads me to my next point.

Stephen was confused so far but decided to continue listening.

“This will sound freakish, I know it will. I’m…a reincarnate of someone else.” Romeo scanned the other’s face for an expression, so far, the other being relatively neutral about it, almost as if he wanted to hear out the whole thing. “I…was a human female a few years ago but I had special connections. My parents used to be pretty abusive and I got passed down psychotic depression and schizophrenia from my father, but they wouldn’t take me to a hospital. So I spoke to ghosts at night, I could barely look at a shadow or a wall without it crawling or pulsing, and the like. I digress.”

Stephen’s expression slowly morphed into one of absolute concern as he continued listening, attempting to piece together some strange behaviors he had seen from the other previously.

Romeo continued, almost losing himself in it. “So, I decided to make a deal with one of them last Christmas…and I finally got out of that stupid home. This is also how I discovered that ghosts and other supernatural figures…do have some kind of divine power.” He was vague about the figure that came to him. “So I was granted this form, I always wanted to be a boy, actually. The downfalls are that I did retain some trauma and elements of stress disorders from the past, but otherwise things have been okay. Are you good so far?”

Stephen nodded, making a conscious effort to keep his mind open about the ghost things, seeing that it would be good practice for when he had to confront his sister later. “Yeah, I’m all here, continue.”

“The upsides were increased skill in the arts and physical ability to an extent, for example, I can do this…” dark flames engulfed his coffee cup, which completely changed into a different cup with his name written on it.

Stephen had to stop him now. “No-no- how did you?! You couldn’t…I’m!!”

Romeo tried to calm him, a bit frantically. “Dude, dude, it’s okay. Everyone freaks out when they see it, just, listen. Please.” This earned a still taken aback nod from Stephen.

“The point is that Sol found out, I have my suspicions how, and…didn’t like it. He was always extremely controlling about secrets, and even when I showed him, he just further accused me of deceit. It’s been painful, kind of a shock, actually, but Avery has been helping me through it.” Romeo glanced down dismally, biting his lip.

Stephen looked to the other worriedly, better understanding now how his sister may have thought earlier. “Well, I’m really sorry about that. I hope…I hope you can reside safely. I know this is totally against what I believe in, but…I’ll keep your secret. And don’t be too afraid to come to me if you need any more help.” He smiled tiredly at the other.

Romeo nodded and reciprocated the smile for a second before going back to his heavy gaze. “Thanks for not…totally freaking out on me. And you, too, feel free to message me if you need any advice in dealing with your sister.” He gave Stephen a respectful nod as he stood up.

Stephen patted the shorter on the arm, nodding back. “I may, time will tell. I guess…I’ll see you soon.”

Romeo broke his gaze, mumbling a “good luck, see you later.”

They went their separate ways.

 

The situation seemed to swirl in the mind of the boy with blue hair, the highly stimulating events from earlier clashing with his current situation. He felt his stomach swirl, reaching for his medicine cabinet, and eventually pulling out a bottle of Thorazines he had stolen from his father just before he made the deal with Bill to free him from the household from hell.

“Notes are cliché.” He mumbled simply to himself, grinding his teeth and pulling out a bottle of whiskey from underneath the sink. He felt too cynical on this Saturday evening, a longing for a brush with death on his tongue.

In his mind, he apologized one hundred times over to his mother and father for drinking even though he promised furiously not to.

He apologized to his father for stealing his medication so long ago, and for ripping him apart by disappearing.

 He apologized to his cats, that never saw him again after he made the deal. In visions that taunted him, he saw one scratching at the door of his workroom, crying in wonder of where he was, just wanting to hear his sweet voice and snuggle into his warm lap once again.

He apologized to his mother, for not listening well enough, and knowing deep down inside that although she despised him, there is no changing what your flesh and blood is.

He decided on his potential final words, sending a text message to Bill. “Sorry to abandon you, but I can’t hold up my end of the offer in helping you with the case. I might see you in another realm, but hopefully, I never have to see anyone again.”

With Romeo’s final apology, he set his phone face down on the table, just like he used to do around his family, so they wouldn’t know what crazy shit he was getting into online.

He popped open the bottle, taking six pills at once with one swig of whiskey, taking a total of five sets. Totaling thirty pills and almost the entire bottle, he shakily resealed the alcohol and set it on the ground next to him. “For the gods,” he thought to himself jokingly, before realizing what he had truly done. His phone vibrated.

“Romeo, what does that mean? I’m coming over right now.”

He laughed dryly, thinking “good luck,” to himself. Sitting on the floor, he waited for the drugs to take effect, mixing sweetly with the alcohol.

The ceiling and walls began to pulse, and before he knew it, he was seizing, his body only stopping to vomit on the ground next to him.

The room spun, glorious lights flashing in his periphery. He blacked out, but the pain didn’t stop until his heart stopped.

Two minutes later, Bill bashed down the door to the ghost boy’s apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, also, this is a couple weeks into the future, I forgot to mention. Bill got a smartphone from Stephen, but the Pines case has been relatively dormant. More on that in the next chapter.


	13. Life Imitates Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our favorite siblings make up, which is cool. The next chapter will be a bit more Bill focused, I promise. Please enjoy!! -Will

“Sebastiana, I’m sorry.”

Sebastiana was quiet on the other side of the line, waiting for her brother’s entire speech.

Stephen took a deep breath in, glancing down at the scratchy notes he had written after his meeting with Romeo.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier. I considered your side of the argument and realized that…” he paused, trying to find the right words. “You’re just concerned for me. I should be appreciative of that.”

Before she could get a word in, he continued.

“But above all, I’m truly sorry for my poor choice of words. I’m too far driven by work sometimes…as you know. And this was another…inexcusable instance of that.” Stephen took a sharp breath, clenching his jaw as he awaited a potentially hostile response from his sister.

The other side of the line was quiet for a few seconds as she considered. Sebastiana was not a hostile person, in fact, she felt slightly guilty for reacting so strongly after arriving at her own apartment.

“I’m…I understand you. And I thank you for your well thought out apology.” She began to say something else, but stopped, attempting to find the correct words. “You’re…I…I overreacted a bit. I realized that when I got back but…I kind of wanted you to calm down on your own first.”

Stephen nodded, realizing how right Romeo was. “It’s okay, I can see that both of us might be a little to blame then. Is that right?” He asked to verify, making sure they were on the same page.

Sebastiana closed her eyes, not struggling to admit she was wrong anymore, compared to when she was a feistier teenager. “You’re absolutely right. I think it would be a good…course of action, per se, to kind of talk out how we think. And if something’s inaccurate, we’ll stop each other.”

Stephen agreed, stating that his plan was similar. “So…okay. If you could tell me specifically, what’s your main concerns with my work? I mean, I know it’s not safe work, but specifically.” He hoped this would help her get out what truly concerned her instead of just addressing her apprehensions as a generalization of “unsafe.”

“Well…” her voice was thoughtful, this even showing through the cloudiness of the phone reception. “It’s…it’s about…some of your co-workers. Two to be exact. I don’t know about Bill and Sol, especially Bill.” She paused, waiting for a response.

“I understand what you mean. To be honest, I don’t exactly know about Bill either. I mean, he’s on our phone plan now, so there’s not much we can do about that.” Stephen gave a small laugh, this also earning a laugh from his sister. “But for real. He’s a bit suspicious, but I tried to put this aside in place of my…I guess, internal prejudices and assuming everything makes me anxious. I need to stop that.” He chuckled again.

“Yeah, that was exactly my fear about him too. And that was my fear about you interacting with him too much, that you’d blame it on your anxiety, just as you told me.” She smiled a little, although she knew he couldn’t see her, he probably got the energy of it. “I guess…what I recommend about him is to not get too involved, okay? His hospital bills are paid now, and I paid for his phone up front, so it’s not like we can’t just shut off his line. If he starts behaving strangely…erratically, as he did with the drinking thing, just tell me. Don’t put too much trust in him, and please, for the love of god, don’t go behind my back, okay?”

There was a touch of sadness in her voice as she made the request. It’s not that Stephen had done that before, he was just prone to, as she observed by this instance.

“Sis, I’m going to be straight with you. I promise you I won’t, this…this is a bit more serious than I thought it was and…that would honestly be the worst course of action. Job or not.” He smiled lightly and tried to lighten the mood. “Ironic that we had to pay _Bill’s_ hospital _bills._ ”

Sebastiana laughed, managing to get out “I was thinking the same thing when I said it earlier!” They laughed lightly together, feeling reconnected after the fight. After their laugh, the tone became serious.

“Anyway, anyway,” Stephen began. “I’m curious about Sol, so I want you to say what you’re thinking first, and then I’ll tell you what I found out today.”

Sebastiana nodded, humming as she turned on the TV to check the news. “Oh, man, okay. So…you know I’m a plant witch and everything right, I mean you’ve known since we were teenagers.”

Stephen grinned at the thought. “Of course!” He replied cheerily.

“Well he was talking to me about breaking up with Romeo a few weeks back. Apparently, did you know this? He was a reincarnate. And Sol found this out and found out he was magic and also believed in shit like spirits and demons and freaked out.”

Stephen nodded, putting his hand in the air as he laid on the couch. “Yeah, actually after you left, I remembered I was supposed to meet with him at the café. He told me about this.”

“Ok, so you’re up to date.” Sebastiana decided to turn the TV off, finding it evidently distracting. “So, he was…sorry, Sol was talking to me about the breakup. He was absolutely disdainful about the magic and shit, I mean like, pissed off to the third degree, you know?”

Stephen laughed slightly at his sister’s choice of words, nodding. “Absolutely, it seemed like that when I talked to Romeo. Anyway, go on, go on.”

“And I was like ‘oh jeez, should I admit to him that I’m also a witch?’ I mean, I knew he was super Catholic and everything, but I didn’t realize he would be screaming about the other’s sins of deceit and witchcraft. He just seemed a little smarter. Anyway, I know this seems a bit personally driven, but be really careful when you’re talking to him. I think with your job, you want as few people against you as possible.” She finished her sentence with a sip of tea, closing her eyes slightly.

“I totally understand you. And I will definitely accept your advice. I think…I think I need to make more of an effort to chill out sometimes and realize that the dynamics between people may not be the best. I can see how my stresses worried you.” Stephen hummed his response naturally, crumbling up the post it notes he had written advising himself on what to do during the conversation.

“I’m glad you understand. And don’t work yourself too hard, okay? Everything must be done in relativity, or whatever.” She chuckled slightly and shook her hand wistfully, rolling her eyes.

Stephen also laughed, agreeing. “I’ll sure try my best. Oh, also, also, you left your brush here…I, uh…don’t know if you need that.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just let my two feet of hair go to waste.” She laughed, sitting back. “Nah, I’m actually off ‘till Wednesday, so I was wondering if I could come over tonight and stay until then?”

Stephen nodded. “Of course! Just be safe getting here okay, it’s a bit dark now.” He was sincere in his warnings.

“Jeez, you sound like mom.” Sebastiana shook her head and smiled. “Yeah, I will, no worries. See you in a few.”

“Got it, see you soon. Love ya.” Once the phrase was reciprocated, Stephen set down his phone and sighed a bit, relieved at how well that went. He switched on the TV, scrolling to the channel 13 news at nine PM. The breaking news symbol flashed on screen, almost perfect with the time he turned it on, forgetting his thought about texting Romeo.

“Breaking now in Gravity Falls, Oregon, a suicide case is being investigated, Emilio?” The newscaster gave the attention to the reporter in action, camera cutting.

“Where did Bill live again…I think he said something about Gravity Falls?” Stephen mumbled to himself, furrowing his brow. He was saddened by the thought that someone took their own life.

“Yeah Trish, so this case is strange because no note was found. In back of me you can see the tall blond man, he evidently broke down the door of this boy’s apartment after receiving a suicidal text from him.” The camera was brought back to focus on him. “All we’re getting from authorities aside from that was that the male was about five foot nine, 200 pounds, white from what we can tell, and blue colored hair.”

Stephen had already nearly jumped out of his seat at who he guessed was Bill but found himself nearly passing out at the description. “No no, no, no, no, it couldn’t be…no…” he found it difficult to silence his deafening thoughts and pulse.

The reporter continued. “Also, no name has been released yet, but I did recently get insight from a first responder stating they found an empty bottle of prescription Thorazines and a bottle of whiskey that most likely contributed to his death.”

Stephen’s mind raced blurrily, head panicking at the thought of Romeo dying. He thought it couldn’t be so, thinking that the breakup couldn’t have been that bad. He also wondered just what it would take to kill him, considering his magical attributes. He felt his vision blur, throat tightening, his wall of denial slowly breaking.

“That’s very heartbreaking Emilio, thanks for your update, and we’ll keep you updated as new information is released.” The newscaster spoke fluidly. “And remember, the suicide hotline number is 1(800) 273-8255,” the number flashed on screen, “if anyone finds themselves in a crisis. There’s also numerous public help options and counselling available, so please, do not fail to consult someone if you see something or feel something.” The newscaster paused, pursing her lips as she tried to stay professional. “And on to our next story…”

Stephen groaned, running his hands through his hair, legs shaking with the thought that he was most likely the last person Romeo talked to before he died. He felt like throwing up himself, shakily picking up his phone to text his sister.

[I heard a disturbing story of a suicide in Gravity Falls, and if you can believe this, Bill was there and speaking to authorities when they were reporting. The description of the boy sounded like Romeo, but they won’t release a name…] Stephen hit send, nearly dropping his phone with how sick he felt. He also realized he hadn’t eaten well that day, retrieving an orange from the fridge. He continued watching the news, waiting for more updates and a response from his sister.

Stephen soon realized he might have to speak with authorities, as he had spoken with Romeo that day. He considered he may be held at fault for not saying anything, but what was there to say? Romeo was Romeo, and he was always just dismal like that. He seemed to be recovering okay from the breakup, anyway. Stephen’s mind span as he tried to justify it, just tearing his reasoning back up time after time.

He had a dark thought. “Just like in the play…” he mumbled to himself.

Stephen’s phone vibrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Bill has the contacts of Avery, Stephen, Romeo, Sol, a few other workers from the bureau, and Dipper. He's been working to get them but still uses his index finger to scroll on his phone like some kind of old person, which honestly made Avery laugh her ass off when she first saw it.


	14. Romeo Baxter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to wait until Ao3 was back up to post this one, haha. I swear this will be the last tragic chapter relating to this before we get back into the good good stuff. -Will

“Romeo!” Bill shouted and bolted for the lifeless boy, immediately repulsed by the acidic, rotting smell of vomit. “Oh fuckssake- no, no, no you couldn’t have, no!” Bill felt himself panicking, taking long, pacing strides across the apartment as he considered what he would do. He already looked suspicious, neighbors next door already coming out of their rooms to see what the loud smashing noise was.

Bill knew he might be held accountable, immediately calling 911. He couldn’t perform resurrection magic, at least, not in this mortal human form. He didn’t know what irked him so much about it, after all, Romeo was just another sad sap he had made a deal with to save him from potentially worse. And the blue haired boy ended up bringing the worst upon himself.

“Hello, yeah uh-…I’m at 21st street and Rose, my uh-my friend committed suicide I think…no, no he’s not breathing. I haven’t touched him, no. Apartment 1020, uhh…complex at Rose. I’m…I’m trying my best to keep calm. There’s an empty bottle of whiskey and…Thorazines? Yeah…the other neighbors are coming over. I-…” Bill’s voice broke, feeling a familiar tightening sensation. “I broke down the door. He sent me a text and-and-and I…I rushed over and he wouldn’t open his door and-…okay…” The rest of the conversation between Bill and the operator went similarly. After he got off the phone, first responders had arrived and were rushing up to the apartment.

An investigator and photographers were also there, ready to deliver the best account of what happened as they could. As usual, the responders and investigators clashed while both parties attempted to do their respective jobs as effectively as possible. Mumbles were heard among them “Estimated time of death, 6:17 PM. Clearly an overdose.” An investigator turned to Bill and a few others present, asking which one called 911.

“I-uh…I did.” Bill stepped forward, voice shaking with concern. Although he had previously brought upon the death of thousands at once, something about his sporadic human hormones made everything seem…unjust.

“Okay, you did the right thing, don’t be afraid. I’m gonna take you downstairs and we’re going to ask you a few questions, okay?”

Bill nodded, following the investigator. Another was left behind to ask the neighbors questions, it being clear that they weren’t particularly involved.

The investigator led the blond downstairs and outside of the building, the two sitting on the steps, facing the setting sun. “Are you able to identify that man?”

“Yes, his name is Romeo Baxter. He’s 16 years old as of June 30.” Bill responded a bit more fluidly, having these discussions himself fairly often. Ironic that an investigator is investigating a detective.

“You knew exactly what my next two questions were. What’s your line of work?” The investigator smiled, trying to make a slight connection with the blonde who was clearly slightly distressed after it all.

“I’m…I’m a detective. For the Portland Bureau.” Bill looked down in shame, not sure why he felt apprehensive to tell the other this fact.

“Makes sense. Anyway…” The investigator continued gently, “…what is your relation to the man?”

“He’s a…well, now a former partner of someone I work with. I’ve gotten to know him through exposure, hence why I have his phone number. He actually sent me a text…” Bill pulled out his phone, handing it to the investigator.

“Thanks,” The other responded, happy with how easy it was to communicate with the other and get his job done. Unlocking the phone and opening the text messages, the investigator made sure to check the times that the messages were sent and the read receipts. He noted Bill’s text was read by the other at 6:16 PM, the first responder’s guess of his death being 6:17 PM fairly accurate.

He continued with his questioning. “So you received this suicidal text and…?”

Bill’s stomach jumped, realizing what it said about the investigating deal. He wasn’t technically supposed to have others helping, his head spinning from his fear. “W-well, I was confused because I didn’t recall making any type of deal with him. Which was weird, because he’s smart and usually has his facts straight.” Bill took a breath after skillfully clearing that up. “As soon as I saw it, I rushed out of my building which is just down that way,” he pointed vaguely where it was, “and to his. My mind was racing so I didn’t immediately think to call the police…bad on my part. Real bad.” He looked down shamefully again, voice cracking.

“Hey, this happens fairly often. Don’t blame it all on yourself, okay? This is really good pieces of evidence for us, so you’re helping rather than hurting.” The investigator learned to be soothing, having to deal with much more unstable people in the past. “And you…broke down the door?”

“Yeah, I’m kind of strong. It was adrenaline I guess.” Bill trailed off slightly, gathering his thoughts. “And I found him there, he was dead when I got there. So I followed what the operator said on the phone and now I’m here.” He found himself not being as articulate as usual, still quite unsettled. How would Stephen feel? How would _Sol_ feel? Oh god, he prayed this wouldn’t turn out to be another Romeo and Juliet.

“And you called the police when you got to the apartment?” The investigator inquired.

“Yeah, sorry, I did. I think he had been dead for a little bit when I got there…” Bill’s throat tightened again, and he shuddered, somehow so disturbed by the feeling he had just wanted to cling so close to a few weeks ago.

“I know it’s hard to think about. I’m sorry for your loss, truly. Just a few more questions.” The investigator continued, giving a reassuring look to the other.

Bill nodded, returning to the look. They continued on for a couple hours, Bill eventually seeing the newscasters coming and shuddering with dread.

After the interview and setting up a weekend appointment for further investigation, Bill sending a shaky text to Stephen. [Romeo killed himself. I need to come over, I’m really upset].

Stephen finally picked up his phone after two minutes of nervous apprehension, the text not being from his sister as expected, but rather from Bill.

He shuddered in dread upon reading it, his suspicions being confirmed. He gave Bill his address over text, telling him how he had the best bet getting there by bus. He decided to address the rest later, being able to see Bill’s face proving more reassuring in discussion.

He soon heard his buzzer ring, pressing the button. “U-uh…yes?”

“Steph! It’s Sebastiana.” The woman’s voice was chipper, eager to see her brother again. She clearly hadn’t checked her phone.

“Uhhhh…come up.” He pressed the button to open the barrier, allowing her into the building once again.

She soon knocked at his door, Stephen darting to the entrance to meet her. His face was more paled than usual, being clearly panicked. He grabbed the other’s hand, leading her dramatically into the living room of the fairly large apartment.

“Stephen, don’t tell me that you’re distressed again, I-…” Sebastiana was cut off by the panicked voice of her brother.

“Romeo killed himself. You haven’t checked your phone.” Stephen stated simply, feeling the tears welling up in his once strikingly empty eyes. His ears heated up as he sat next to the couch with his sister, leaning his head on her shoulder. He let out a pained wail, starting to sob.

“Oh god-…” Sebastiana felt her heart sink, an unmistakable dread in the pit of her stomach. She checked her phone, seeing what the other had sent her earlier. “Is he coming over?”

“Y-yes…” Stephen answered through sharp breaths, grasping her opposite shoulder for security.

The absolute detriment of the situation didn’t hit Sebastiana yet, as she felt the absolute emptiness and insecurity of it all. Her head spun with thought, a question on the tip of her tongue, but one she bit her tongue to ask until later. Temptation got to her. “You were the last one to talk to him?”

Stephen took another chain of sharp breaths, not answering immediately. “I-I-I don’t….kn-know maybe, maybe may-maybe I-I hope not God why-…” he followed up his final statement with a pained groan, almost struggling for air.

“Please breathe…” Sebastiana petted her brother’s hair lightly, patting his back. “I’m…so, so sorry…” She couldn’t bring herself to say much more, looking down disdainfully.

The buzzer rang once again, Sebastiana giving a reassuring pat to her brother before getting up and answering. “Yes…?”

“It’s Bill, I need to see Stephen…” Bill wrung his hands nervously, not knowing he was clenching his teeth.

“Come on up.” She opened the barrier for the other.

They talked for an hour, everyone updating each other on what they knew. Stephen requested to come to the investigatory meeting with Bill, arranging that they could meet at the café once again.

Perhaps the final tears were shed for the ghost boy that had been fortunate enough to clip into their existence. Stephen glanced constantly at the framed drawings he had on the wall, belonging to Romeo. All of them felt absolutely sick with the thoughts, Bill eventually leaving to allow the two their time. “If you need anything, just ask. Remember to write those notes. I-I’ll…I’ll see you later.” Bill exited the apartment without another word, still remaining horrified. The anxious pressure in his chest remained through the bus ride home. Only when he was able to collapse on the couch he began to sob, frustrated with everything the world had to offer. This was only the second time he had cried in his existence, feeling the familiar suffocating and pressuring feeling.

After he cried, he felt an uncanny craving for more smokes, scratching his hands with desire. He hadn’t eaten the whole day, not feeling a necessity to. “Maybe I should see someone.” Bill considered out loud, finding himself smoking an entire pack within the hour.

Bill refused to turn on the news, not wanting to find out more about the boy, knowing the story would be all over the local news. He felt sickened from barely drinking and failing to eat the whole day, his usually lustrous skin appearing ashen and dull.

As he slept, he heard only one voice talking to him. It didn’t belong to another personality of his, this time, it belonged to a spirit.

The spirit wailed and sobbed, asking why. He didn’t understand something about interaction, being exceedingly vague about his statements. Bill’s brow furrowed in his sleep, not wanting to be frustrated further after the emotionally taking day. The voice spoke in his native language, a behavior he found strange.

The figure was shadowed, the eyes being nothing but mere shadow outlines of his skull. His hair was sweet pastel blue, bleeding profusely from the mouth. The figure’s golden wings were chained, shaking Bill in his dream. Bill could only vaguely translate his own language, it being muffled by an unknown barrier.

“You know the killer, you know the killer, you know the killer. Cease interaction. Cease interaction.” The sweet figure chanted hopefully, Bill’s cries of confusion being nothing against the other’s yells.

Bill started awake, horrified by his visions, having cried in his sleep once again. His throat and nose burned from the cigarettes, head swirling so rapidly that the fell flush with his bed once again. He didn’t remember carrying himself to bed from the couch but dismissed it.

Reflecting on the disturbing dream, his eyes glowed cerulean, recalling the memory he had collected from Dipper.

“Good god-…” his broken voice drawled.

“Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my new readers!! I really appreciate you all. And credits to honey-nut-fearios on tumblr for helping me come up with Romeo's last name and helping me laugh while I was writing this.


	15. King For A Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news and bad news!  
> Good news first: I have the rest of the fic officially planned out, and it will be ending in a few chapters, depending on how quickly I escalate it.  
> Bad news: I didn't really stick with my original concept and plan, but I hope it turns out just as well.  
> Thanks to everyone reading! The next chapter will be a little more action packed, I promise. -Will

Another week had passed since the big incident, tragedy blowing away with the wind just as quickly as it had come. Stephen and Bill had a successful interview with another investigator, the cause of the ghost boy’s death being deemed entirely a suicide and charges being dropped on all other involved parties.

It was a normal, delirious Monday morning for everyone, Bill wandering into his office around 7 AM as he planned to go out later in the day. He received a message from Dipper that stated Ford would be out of town on business for a few days, giving him the chance to run samples or whatever residue he found in the basement and compare it to previously collected samples.

Bill was also balancing two other cases, these two being exceedingly easy for him. One was a fraud case relating to an underground banker that eventually lead to a homicide, Bill not surprised that a small strain of the mafia still existed to this day. He had been finalizing his submission of his findings before he heard five knocks on his door, this being surprising.

“Bill, see me in my office.” The voice of Mr. Northwest rang out, Bill abandoning his work to follow.

 

“What seems to be the issue, Mr. Northwest?” Bill addressed him formally, being completely aware that he didn’t exactly reside on his boss’ good side.

“No issue, no issue at all. Actually…I’m,” the boss paused to gather his thoughts, taking a deep breath. “You’ve shown a…. surprising aptitude and agility for this job. I thought it was only appropriate to promote you to…uh…my assistant and co-runner of the homicide division. Since our most recent just retired, I wanted to give someone a bit younger the opportunity for such a thing.” Mr. Northwest was almost apprehensive to say it, honestly being unsure of how his employee would take such an opportunity.

Bill’s eyes glinted with joy, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re…you’re really sure? I mean, I’m honored, but I know this is a really big position and I’ve only been working here for a few weeks-…” he cut himself off, seeing the impatience in the other’s eyes.

“Hey, don’t ask any more questions before I change my mind.” Northwest gave a dry laugh. “Now, I’m required to give you this exam in order for you to be legally appointed, but I’m sure you’ll be fine on it.” Northwest slid him a piece of paper, being a rudimentary study guide of sorts.

Bill took it and nodded, asking a few other questions he believed would be valid. “So…when would you like me to come in for the exam? Also, what…uh…” he paused to word his phrase as politely as possible. “What exactly…what can I continue doing that is good?” Bill looked to him, clearly having the intent to listen carefully.

“Well…” Northwest began, breaking eye contact. “Three PM is fine, since I know you’re heading out in a couple hours for the Pines case. That leads me to my next point, in fact. You’ve shown especially good tolerance and ability for this specific case, one that many others have given up on. I’m glad to have someone that’s able to preserve the motivation to keep it up. You’ve also shown pinpoint accuracy in your observations, and your submissions are elaborate and consistently useful in cases.” Northwest glanced to the other to indicate he was finished.

Bill absolutely basked in the praise, taking quite a liking to being complimented for his smarts. Just a few weeks ago, this same man was spitting in his face about being delusional and immature, and now he was promoting him to a remarkably high position. Bill grinned to himself slightly, sitting back and narrowing his eyes. “Well, I’m elated that I could be of service. That time is just fine, yes. I’ll be sure to be there.”

Bill stood up, slightly towering over his boss, taking both of the other’s hands and shaking them appreciatively. His grip was slightly jarring, as shown by the other’s face. “Thank you, Mr. Northwest. I promise you won’t regret your decision.” Bill parted ways with him, gently closing the door on his way out.

“I hope I don’t either…” Northwest mumbled to himself as the other left, under the false impression that Bill was unable to hear him.

Bill chuckled to himself slightly, hearing the other’s disdainful mumble loud and clear. “Oh…you poor, poor man. You will regret this for the rest of your life.”

Smugly, the blond strutted back into his room and finalized his report.

 

As he rushed out, Bill was sure to leave a post-it-note on his boss’ door indicating that he was going out for investigation but would be back by three. And who better to run into than Sol.

The shorter man purposefully bashed the other’s shoulder, Bill’s good mood not being particularly apt to breaking. The blonde turned on his heel, facing the other. “Problems, I see.” Bill still kept his light face, although a small fire was burning in his chest.

Sol didn’t turn to look at him and was silent, only stopping in his tracks. After a long silence he couldn’t bare the other’s heterochromia boring into the back of his head, so he resolved to speak. “Nothing that would trouble you.” Sol stated simply, continuing down the hall.

Bill was silent at his response, narrowing his eyes and licking his lips. He assured no one else was in the hall, rapidly and silently strutting backwards to meet the other, in a quite demonic and unsettling fashion. He manipulated his voice, so it didn’t sound like his own, whispering heavily. “You cannot hide.”

Sol jumped and let out a wail, dropping his binder. When he turned to look, he saw the elevator door closing and what looked like a blurred black shoe stepping in. “What the fuck-…” he whispered shakily under his breath, pupils blown from adrenaline. “It couldn’t have been him…could it? What does he know?” Sol tried to reason with himself frantically, shakily unlocking his office.

The dark-haired male almost passed out upon seeing his desk, Romeo’s sketchbook being left there. He didn’t recall his former partner abandoning it, cautiously taking further steps into his office. A negative energy was definitely present, being exceedingly troubling to the young adult, already being taunted in his sleep about what he had done to his ex-partner mentally.

The narcissistic and arrogant side of him decided to let it go, stating that someone was just trying to get under his skin and startle him, the voices he heard being a simple symptom of that, and yet, the other side of his conscious plagued him with every waking second.

The man considered quitting.

 

Bill arrived at Dipper’s house, hiding the pink carnations he had brought his client behind his back after he rang the doorbell.

Dipper answered with a friendly hello, being absolutely elated to have some interaction after forcing himself into isolation out of nervousness about his uncle. He decided that today would be the day he admitted he felt something for the frivolous detective, heart jumping into his throat at the sight of the other.

The detective’s breath smelled vaguely of nicotine, a smell and taste Dipper had become familiar with as a method of quelling his anxiety, although he would never tell his uncle such a thing. Bill strode confidently into the other’s home, revealing the carnations he had brought.

Dipper jumped back with a dizzy surprise, not being used to such bold statements of affection, or even expecting that the detective would really feel anything for him back. He was elated at the development, taking them with a joyous grin.

“I thought you might like those. You see, I…” Bill trailed off, being sure to use his sweetest and most fluid voice. “I uh…find…I take a liking to you. I haven’t…” he trailed off again, glancing to the floor and kicking himself in the shin for being so terribly shaky.

“You haven’t done this much before, I understand.” Dipper gave him a reassuring nod and reached up to caress his face slightly, his adoration and joy for the demon shining in his eyes as he finally had the opportunity to grace the other’s toffee skin.

Bill was astounded by the touch, not particularly finding himself experiencing symptoms of love before. He had seen portrayals of such love, though, and leaned in to capture the other’s lips, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Dipper let out a squeak of surprise but did not make an effort to pull away, the other seeming to pull back as soon as it began. He gazed up at the other with slight fear, surprise, and admiration, basking in the feeling of the demon’s warmth against his.

A word wasn’t spoken between the two at first, both seeming essentially suspended in the moment. Bill reflected on his past, putting it together that he had just kissed the boy he had once despised, and in the more recent past, that had seen him as arrogant and almost sick.

But goddammit, both of them thought, their faces fit together so well.

“S-so…I…. was I supposed to? I’m terribly sorry-…” Bill began to fidget, breaking eye contact. He realized what he might have done, feeling a familiar guilt creeping up on him.

“No, no, y-you’re just fine, I was going to propose, w-whatever. Yes let’s…let’s consider this later, is that good?” Dipper stammered reassurances and suggestions, still slightly taken aback and unevenly flushed.

“Y-yeah, of course. Let’s get to it.” Bill strode past him gently, opening the door to the basement. He was hit by an unmistakable, running, oily energy, one he had far too well known. This time, he was able to grit his teeth and bare it, luckily having had started the day in a good mood. He took out his sample kit, placing on leather gloves.

Dipper watched him with absolute lust, for lack of a better term, not exactly sure how to feel about the gloves. Bill noticed the other staring and quirked an eyebrow, involuntarily smirking slightly. Embarrassed, the brunet turned on his heel and to the kitchen to start coffee, having bought Bill’s favorite type. He stuck one of the carnations in his jacket pocket, being a lovely compliment to his sienna eyes.

Bill shook his head and went back to his work, unsure of why his usually overactive mind was acting on solely one track at the moment. He dismissed it, reminding himself of the importance of the cases at hand, collecting a few machinery samples. While snooping around, he accidentally pushed a tile in the wall, flipping to reveal a condensed journal of sorts. Bill let out a low chuckle, remarking smugly at how tricky the scientist was.

Opening the journal, he discovered numerous drawings of inhuman anatomy, the dates stopping around 1996 before beginning suddenly in 2015. He recognized the drawings as angelic, definitely belonging to his brother. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, trying to block out the creeping voices.

A seemingly coded note was written, the scientist seeming to be clever enough to learn the demon’s native language. “Noise reduction…” Bill mumbled cryptically to himself, rapidly piecing together missing parts, manipulating them as if they were some kind of abstract puzzle. He read the notes, translating haphazardly as he went.

After a few minutes, an arrogant remark was heard. “Oh, you made this TOO easy.”

Dipper’s brow furrowed with concern but decided to not check on the other, knowing how expressive he was. He reflected on what happened last time with the other’s seemingly random mental breakdown, deciding to abandon his coffee and quietly slip downstairs.

After he arrived, and his eyes adjusted to the slight darkness, he felt a familiar rush in his chest, legs faltering as they told him to dart away.

There was Bill Cipher, seemingly levitating in a crossed sitting figure with ease, files being summoned, copied, and translated with haste. The demon was humming to himself, two given eyes closed in order to focus. His hair was suspended loosely in the air, revealing his third eye which glowed a remarkable azure. He almost seemed to be speaking in tongues, as interpreted by the gentle human before him.

Too dazed to speak, Dipper watched in horror as he came to the realization that this was, in fact, the same Bill Cipher from 6 years ago, and now he was in his house and rummaging through his great uncle’s possessions and research.

“Y-you-…” This was all the brunet was able to stammer out without appearing exceedingly maddened, feeling a foreign type of rage inside of him. He felt invaded, especially with the other having a history of acting this vampiristically and invasively.

Bill’s focus snapped, a streak of blinding white light slashing the room as he fell on his back, breathing quick and uneven with shock. He sat up rapidly to meet the teenager’s furiously impending gaze, white, coated eyes glowing dimly in the poorly lit basement as his mind reset. He was mute, making phantom movements as he attempted to speak, but nothing able to come through, almost as if he was stuck between planes.

Dipper menaced over the other’s rebooting body, jaw clenched, his hands in tight fists and slightly drawn back from his hips. Everything about the air was tense, particularly unbreathable.

The brunet’s rage began.

“You-…you fucking slippery bastard!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (me, sneering angrily at google spell check after I paste my writing into the text box): yes, those are REAL words, goddammit!


	16. Another Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry it's been a couple days since I've updated. I'm learning to drive and working on other projects, so everything is just a process lately, hah. Hope you enjoy this, and happy new year to everyone! -Will

Bill slithered backwards from the other’s menacing rage, trying desperately to get some semblance of sounds out, but only managed to speak fragments. “…you’re…I’m not…don’t…. he’s…tell him…”

Dipper continued to yell, temper and absolute fear being sent through the roof. He should have known to be suspicious of the similar name. He knew he should have paid attention to the other’s mannerisms. He knew he should have worried more about the weird post it notes and writings and various strange injuries appearing on his hands.

He knew he shouldn’t have kissed a fucking demon.

“Dipper, listen to me!” Bill spoke clearly, managing to float to his feet once again, the half foot in height he had over the other proving to be intimidating.

The brunet shut his mouth, immediately feeling his fear instinct kicking in as his legs told him to flee, which actually worked this time. He scattered up the basement stairs, almost tripping on the last step up.

“Oh fuckssake, Dipper!” Bill growled, feeling the heat radiating off of his skin once again as he activated his magic. The blonde shut the front door in the other’s face, floating quickly up the stairs to meet his partner.

“Please- let me out! Please!” The brunet screamed, clawing at the door being held shut with the other’s magic like a helpless animal. A truly twisted and sick side of the blond quite enjoyed this sight but knew that indulging in such tendencies wouldn’t lead him to the best outcome.

“If you listen to me for one fucking second, I can explain what’s going on here, and you can stop your screaming fit. I’m not a sicko bastard, I’m not going to just kill you like that.” Bill bared his sharp teeth, snapping with the finishing word of his sentence and briefly engulfing a small patch of carpet in blue flames.

“Quite the contrary, asshole-…” Dipper cut himself off as he turned to meet the other’s glare, burning straight into what was left of his soul. He shut up immediately, being slightly bothered by the fact that the blonde’s behaviors reminded him of Ford’s when the older was upset.

“Good. You’re quiet.” Bill began in a slightly rushed tone. “Look, yes, I’m the same guy who tortured you when you were a kid. Big fucking deal, now, somebody killed my brother, and it was somebody in this dimension. I got a second chance, so now I’m here, but I’m trapped in this meatsack that apparently wants to kill itself all the time. So, I’m working as a detective and they forced me to pick up your case that everyone at the bureau gave up on because, frankly, they don’t like you.” Bill rambled, but not without reason.

Dipper was slightly stunned by all of the new information, breaths still quick and uneven from his adrenaline high. Tears started forming in his eyes from the panic, but he tried to ignore it as he listened.

Bill continued, seeing the other was still listening. “I know that doesn’t exactly win points with you, but I hope you can accept this. From…widowed brother to widowed brother. I’m real close to figuring out your case, and I just got promoted at the bureau to assistant to the head, so that may mean benefits for you in the future. Questions?” Bill tapped his foot, arms crossed in slight agitation.

Dipper made a sorry attempt at forming a coherent sentence, before closing his eyes and breathing. “Yeah, a few questions. But first, let me just say how goddamn angry I am.” The brunette stood up shakily, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You lie to me about who you are, you fake a romance with me-…”

Bill began to cut him off, to which Dipper hissed “I’m not fucking finished,” to him before the blonde fully shut up.

“…you bring me all these gifts and you say you’re going to figure this out, yet I hear nothing for two weeks and I see you on the news the other week investigating a different person’s death.” Was Dipper seriously jealous?

Bill sneered at him, seeing that the brunet had stopped long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. “Don’t even talk about Romeo. You don’t know what that was like, kid, and I wasn’t investigating that, I just…I just found his body.” Bill shuddered, still visibly shaken by the whole thing.

Dipper quirked up an eyebrow, noting how genuine Bill’s response to that was, taking notes in the back of his mind. He considered that his partner may have developed an empathy factor of some kind, although surprising, not impossible.

Bill continued, noting Dipper’s surprised expression, expecting to get questions about that later. “…and yes, I have to work on multiple cases at once. You know, so I don’t get fucking fired. So, focus, and tell me why you’re angry _now._ ” There was a hint of sour attitude in the demon’s last word, earning an equally sour expression from Dipper.

“Why? You imbecile, I thought you did have a little fucking empathy after…whatever. I’m angry because you deceived me, held me hostage in my own home-…in fact, you are currently holding me hostage in my own home, you’re using magic to do god knows what with my great uncle’s equipment, and…” Dipper trailed off, his fiery mind not forming coherent words other than jumbles of curses and insults. “I’m going to report you to the bureau-…oh my god, you can’t…you must be hurting so many people, I’m-…” Dipper was utterly horrified, skidding on the soft mat in front of the door to reach his cell phone in the kitchen.

Bill jumped up to meet him, growling “oh, you little fucker!” as he chased the brunet, inevitably catching him and holding him by the side collar with an unexpectedly strong grip. His whisper was low and dangerous into the other’s ear. “If you say so much as a word to anyone, you’re dead. You wanna know why, kid?” He spat the last word, breathing heavily against the other’s neck.

Dipper froze in fear before struggling against the hand gripping him, shaking with unmistakable terror. “I-I…won-won’t say-won’t say a word I won’t…” he managed to struggle out, hands frantic against the others.

“Your little case is never going to be solved by a normal detective. You’re slippery, ill-conceived great uncle has been hiding so much shit from you, it’s unbelievable. So, if you want to know what maniacal excuse of a human shot your sister to death, I recommend you keep your pretty mouth shut, and cut the threatening shit.” Bill took a deep breath in, dropping the brunet, who formed a slithering, shaking heap on the floor, crying aimlessly for an unknown goal.

Bill glared down at him. “It just so happens that same person performed one too many experiments on my brother, not the person who killed your sister, but it’s sure as fuck the person who conspired to kill her.”

Dipper only managed to sob, wailing a “what do you mean,” overcome by horror at the repeated mentions of his sister. God, he wanted to think about literally anything else. He wanted to go back to when they were thirteen, and school was easy, and they didn’t have strange triangle men to deal with any time soon.

Bill explained his vague statement with a newfound solace. “Your sister didn’t like Ford’s experiments on living specimens and made that completely clear to him. In a moral battle, my half dead brother tried to contact you two through your dreams, the last and most frightening dream you had being the night he died. Ford found out that Will, a dream angel, was attempting to contact you two through the best method he could in order to get himself out of the mess but wasn’t powerful enough to and gave himself away. In order to cover all of his evidence, Ford murdered my brother and put seals all over the joint to cover any magic leaking out of the building, resolving to also murder your sister after you two had those dreams, so she wouldn’t be in his way. There’s also an underground strain of the mafia near here, don’t know if you know that, which I had investigated in a different case relating to money fraud. If it makes you feel better, they’re in jail and awaiting trial, which makes them much, much easier to kill. They were hired by your uncle to kill your sister while he was away on the trip.” Bill concluded dryly, looking to the still whimpering heap of a man on the floor.

All Dipper forced himself to express was a resentful “Oh my god,” his mind swirling with regret. He regretted not listening, becoming blindly angry, and being closed-minded. It became impossible to take, dry heaving as it became harder for him to breathe.

Bill slumped down next to Dipper, feeling the more psychotic side of him beginning to leave. Still feeling an undeniable affection for the other, he rubbed the brunet’s shoulder, to which Dipper was surprisingly accepting of the affection.

The blonde muttered a phrase he had rarely spoken. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” the recovering brunet whimpered out, leaning closer to the other’s warmth. “This…this isn’t your fault. I don’t care what you did before. Without you, it’s…” Dipper trailed off, barely knowing what he was saying. “You’re right. It’s hopeless.” He had given up being arrogant.

“Look…” Bill began with a sigh, gazing to the other who had his head in his hands. “It’s not. But I need you to promise me something.”

Dipper’s head perked up slightly, dim and bloodshot eyes barely meeting the other’s heterochromia. The manipulation was working.

“If you swear not to say a word about what you know that I truly am, if you don’t report me to anyone, if you let me help you get this case through and put all of this murder stuff behind you, I’ll…I’ll provide for you.” Bill waved his hand considerately, thinking. “If you’d be mine. Since I’m an assistant, I’ll be making a lot and controlling a lot, which means…more to you. And you won’t have to worry about your controlling uncle, and you can do your research in peace, and…you get the point.” He looked to the other solemnly for a response.

Dipper gazed down as he thought, squeezing his hands and cracking his knuckles repeatedly. “I understand where you’re coming from…” he began, starting to show his fear of guilt that might come up later as well as other complicated emotions. “I agree. I can’t not agree…I mean, I’m not going anywhere. I’m too far deep.” Dipper took a deep breath, looking to the other once again. “I…I’ll go with you. To the ends of who knows where.” The brunet expressed in a determined voice, seeming so sure of his choice.

Bill put his hand out gratefully, glowing a dim pastel blue before becoming engulfed with the stereotypical cool flames. “So…do we have a deal?” He mumbled expectantly.

“Deal.” Dipper took the other’s hand and nodded, feeling a slight static in his mind as he did, his eyes and hearing faltering momentarily. Although suspicious of the feeling, he dismissed it. He thought about where his anger led him just a few minutes before.

Bill closed his eyes appreciatively as they sealed their bond, Dipper not having to know the fact that this was now eternal, until one of their inevitable fading’s from existence. He was proud that he had so skillfully manipulated his partner, now receiving an eternal bonding with someone he truly adored.

The two were silent for a few seconds as they parted hands, Bill breaking this silence as he checked his watch.

“Since I know you’re upset…and I still have a couple hours before my interview…you wanna get something to eat?” Bill shrugged at the suggestion, realizing by his near blackout while standing up that he needed nutrients.

“I’m…” Dipper considered for a second, feeling strangely empty after being off of his emotional high. “I’m not…hungry, per se. Perhaps we could get a milkshake? Or something? There’s a nice place down the road.”

Bill nodded, liking the suggestion. “Alright, out we go then.” He took the other’s hand in order to help him up, the partners finding that they continued to hold hands even as they walked outside, this just feeling the most right. Although a symptom of the bond, both of them felt a complicated loneliness, their hands managing to strangely fit them together as if they were two obscure pieces of a puzzle.

 

Dipper had left his cell phone at home as a result of the earlier incident, honestly forgetting it existed with his grief. A new voicemail symbol lit up the screen, the previous buzzing from Ford’s two missed calls almost knocking the phone off the counter.

[Hey Dipper, it’s me again. Check your email, I sent you a bus ticket to come out to Piedmont this Saturday, I need you here. This is truly a remarkable find…anyway, there’s not really another way to put it. Call me back as soon as you get this, I’ll explain more. See you.]

The voice message ended, Ford growing more frantic with every minute that the boy didn’t respond to his phone, naturally expecting the worst.

Ford had finally found evidence of Bill’s remaining existence somewhere in the dimension.

Cheers to the scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two in the google spellcheck saga: heterochromia is not a word. I cry bullshit, perhaps they should, I don't know, GOOGLE the word.


	17. Enjoy Your Stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this one took me a while. I also didn't proofread it super well because I'm tired, but I hope it's mostly alright. No warnings in particular, thanks for reading and all. -Will

The pair wandered down the street, hand-in-hand, simply appreciative of their company. Dipper found the other’s warm hands comforting, rubbing his thumb against the back of the other’s palm gently. The two were in solemn silence, Dipper still appalled by his family situation.

Bill hummed quietly as they walked, Dipper recognizing this as a classical song and appreciating the other’s singing voice. The brunet broke the eventual silence, asking something a little awkward. “Uh…do you have a cigarette?”

Bill laughed lightly. “I didn’t see you as the smoking type. But no, actually, I was gonna stop by the shop and get some after I met with you.” The blonde paused, thinking for a second. “Aren’t you only 19?”

Dipper gritted his teeth and sucked in an uncomfortable breath, glancing at the sidewalk. “Yeah…don’t tell anyone. Please.”

“It’s alright, you’re a goody two shoes about everything else,” Bill broke his sentence to jokingly punch the other’s shoulder, “and I can’t say that I don’t smoke, so, we’re even. I’ll buy you a pack if you want.” Bill gave him a gentle smile.

Dipper flushed at the teasing, becoming more sheepish than before. “Well, I can pay you back for it-…” he was cut off by the other shaking his head.

“Not necessary, dollface.” Bill gently squeezed the other’s hand, only leaving his grasp to get the door of the ice cream shop.

“What a gentleman,” Dipper joked slightly, smiling and thanking the other, confidently stepping in as his partner trailed behind him.

They were greeted with the sweet voice of the cashier, welcoming them and asking them if they would like to try a promotional product. After the girl opened her eyes, she recognized Dipper, grinning at his presence. “Well, if it isn’t the teenage hermit!” She joked, the two obviously being close friends.

As Dipper approached the counter, he chuckled. “Paz, don’t call me that!” He smiled to her and waved. “How have you been?”

Bill approached behind curiously, slightly towering behind the other, and instinctively putting a hand to his partner’s back.

“Not bad, actually! I recently started dating someone actually, she’s a real sweetheart, actually she’s in training to be a veterinarian.” Pacifica smiled at the thought, her blue eyes flashing with mischief. “Who’s your friend?” She inquired suggestively.

Bill smiled politely to her and introduced himself, although hesitantly, making sure not to include the last name. “I’m Bill, I’m uh…I’m-…” he cut himself off, trying to think of the word that may embarrass Dipper the least. By the way she asked the question, though, it seemed like she already knew the fact that Dipper had a thing for guys. Hell, she liked girls.

“You’re his, I can see that.” Pacifica’s eyes did falter slightly at the mention of the name, but assumed it was pure coincidence. “Good for you, Dip! It’s nice that you found someone. Anyway, can I get you guys anything?” After all, they probably wouldn’t stop in just to say hi.

“Yeah, uh…can I get a regular strawberry-rhubarb malt?” The brunet responded, slightly unsure of his choice.

Pacifica nodded, remarking that she had one of those with her lunch earlier. “And for you?” She gestured towards Bill.

Bill squinted as he looked at the menu, seemingly too close to him. He had also developed a behavior of holding his phone far away from his face, and indication that his not blind eye was becoming farsighted. Although technically impossible for most people, of course it was happening to Bill. “I…” he sighed. “Do you have anything with caramel?”

“Yeah, we have the salted caramel malt or just normal salted caramel milkshake, for the fall season.” She offered, understanding that the other may be struggling to see.

“Okay, I’ll take the normal salted caramel then, thank you. The regular size.” He hummed casually, pulling out a 20-dollar bill before Dipper could even think about payment.

“That’ll be…$7.49. Receipt?” Pacifica asked casually, taking the money from the blonde. Bill responded with a no thanks before turning to Dipper smugly, noting the surprised expression on the other’s face. He took his money from Pacifica.

“Okay, fine, but next time I’m paying.” Dipper muttered disdainfully, hating when other people paid for him. If he’d known Bill would do that, he would have ordered something a little cheaper. A casual laugh was heard from Pacifica, who turned around to make the drinks.

“It’s fine, my lovely.” Bill smiled and lead him to a table nearby, pulling out a chair for his partner, being sure to really turn up the politeness and redeem himself after the incident earlier, which was working on the brunet effortlessly.

They received their drinks, Bill tipping Pacifica 10 dollars on top of their drinks and telling her to buy her girlfriend something nice. She smiled at the sweet gesture, being exceedingly thankful, as she didn’t have much after she had been essentially disowned by her parents.

“Thanks for being so nice today…although it is a little suspicious.” Dipper chuckled, winking at his partner, which earned an eye roll and an impeccable grin from the blond.

The two tried their drinks, Bill being especially pleased with his, on top of pure, ravenous hunger he didn’t know he had. As he chugged, he listened to the music playing, trying to see if he recognized everything.

When the two were about a fourth of the way though, Dipper almost looked as if he was having an aneurysm. Bill looked over to him, a concerned glint in his eye. “Are you alright?” He inquired nervously.

“O-oh-yeah-…” Dipper swallowed the rest of his drink. “I just really like this song.” He laughed awkwardly, Bill listening to it closer. It was certainly catchy, and he appreciated the old jazzy vibes it had.

The lead began singing, Bill taking an immediate liking to his voice. This could be seen through his pleased expression, Dipper smiling to him. “What song is this?”

“Oh, it’s ‘Roaring 20s, by Panic at the Disco. You’ve never heard them?” Dipper asked casually. “Actually, I’ve had a big crush on the singer ever since I was…god, 15? I’ve always wanted to meet him.”

Bill laughed, although internally he felt slightly jealous of the man, who was able to win Dipper’s affection first. This was naturally misguided, so he ignored it. “No, I haven’t. I don’t listen to music regularly, but I do like some classical music, I guess. I like trying to hear and separate the different parts.” The blonde hummed his response, being fairly apt to hearing good tone.

“Oh, I see.” Dipper considered for a second, drinking more. “There’s a lot of good music apps, and Spotify is free if you’d like to listen to more, it just gives you some ads sometimes.” Dipper knew why Bill was so oblivious to such pop culture but didn’t really mind telling him about it.

Bill nodded, taking note of the names. He finished off his shake and continued listening, quite enjoying the style when the slower ballad of the song came up towards the end. His partner finished soon after them, taking their dirty glasses to Pacifica so she didn’t have to make another trip.

The blonde smiled at the two, giving them a friendly “Have a nice day! And Dipper, text me later, let’s catch up!” She waved to them as they approached the door.

Dipper turned slightly, waving back. “You too! And I’ll be sure too, no worries!”

Bill also reciprocated the polite gesture, smiling as he waved and stepped out.

 

The two stopped at the convenience store near the shop, Bill walking in quickly while Dipper casually waited outside, the blond soon emerging with two packs of more expensive than average cigarettes. He handed a pack to the other, casually stating “Be sure to hide these,” but purposely failing to mention the other’s sociopathic uncle.

Dipper chuckled slightly and shoved them in his pants pocket, doing a lame salute. “Noted.”

The two walked home once again in relative silence, Dipper occasionally commenting on the pretty scenery or places where he had found various things, Bill being open to and happy with listening.

They arrived at the small shack uphill, Bill leaning over slightly to allow Dipper to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek, noting the other’s hotter than average body temperature once again. “Hey, thanks for buying me all this stuff. You’re…I know with what happened earlier this sounds weird but…you’re really sweet. Thanks.” Dipper squeezed the other’s hand affectionately as he entered his house, the two separating from touch.

Bill chuckled slightly and subconsciously rubbed the area where the other kissed, finding himself appreciatively blushing, closing the door behind his partner after mumbling an “Any time.”

 

The blond quickly walked to catch the bus, scanning his pass on the way on. He headed back to the bureau, itching for a smoke, but knowing it had to wait.

Once he arrived, he checked the time, seeing he still had a little while. He sat on a nearby bench, casually smoking a few before returning to his office.

Bill was greeted by Mr. Northwest’s unusually friendly voice, welcoming him back. “Good, you’re back early. Would you like to start the interview now?”

Bill looked to him, considering, and then feeling a slight chill up his spine as he recalled that he hadn’t looked over the makeshift study guide. “Give me about fifteen minutes, and I’ll be there. Thank you, sir.” Bill rushed slightly to his office, knowing he probably smelled of cigarettes.

Mr. Northwest raised an eyebrow, guessing that the other just made a development in the case, and decided to let it go.

 

At almost fifteen minutes exactly Bill strolled to the office, knocking five times. “It’s Bill, I’m here for the interview.”

A muttered “come in,” was heard, Mr. Northwest somehow going from light spirits to exceedingly stressed in fifteen minutes. “Sorry, Cipher. I received a…you know what, never mind. Let’s get this out of the way first.” The man was clearly frazzled, searching for the written exam and his cues for the speech exam.

“It’s fine sir, take your time. We’re early, anyway.” Bill stated in a calming fashion as he sat in the chair across from the other, the temperature being comfortable for once.

Northwest did appreciate the other’s courtesy, finding the needed documents. Bill had even brought his own pen, making the process easier. He begun the written exam, the questions being a breeze, except for the fact that he had to pay attention to his handwriting.

“Oh, you’re left handed,” Northwest remarked, more to himself than anything.

Bill glanced up at him and quietly nodded before going back to his work, closing his blind eye to focus further. He easily finished the fifteen questions in twenty minutes, this being surprising to his boss.

“Are…are you sure you’re done?” Northwest inquired hesitantly. Bill responded with a nod, leaning back in his chair.

They completed a short interview test, Bill passing with flying colors, even adding in extra situational details that were impressive.

“Well…I’ll consider your written exam…but I can tell you that you performed exceedingly well. So…I’ll have you work another week in your current position to finish up the Pines case, if possible, and you’ll probably start next week as my assistant.” Mr. Northwest was clearly impressed and put slightly more at ease with the other’s good performance.

“Thank you, sir. I hate to invade, also, but what was bothering you earlier? Anything I could help with?” Bill inquired seemingly innocently, really having malintent.

“Oh, it’s just…” the boss seemed unusually open today. “Sol sent me an email, he’s going on stress leave and might not come back. It’s not exactly easy when we’re already understaffed, you understand?”

Bill nodded, seeing the stress in the other’s eyes, yet finding it hard to contain his twisted grin. “I understand, sir. I’m sure it will all come out in the wash.” The blond excused himself as he stood up, returning his chair to its original position.

“Oh, Bill, it’s fine, not your fault. I know about what happened to his…partner.” Northwest grimaced and rubbed the bridge of his nose, waving the other off slightly. “You’re free to leave. Have a good day, Cipher.”

“You as well, good luck with all of that.” Bill gently opened and closed the door on his way out, having a temptation to meet with Stephen but deciding otherwise. He stepped into his own office, locking the door behind him and refusing to turn on the lights.

Bill had some serious work to do.

 

Dipper darted to his phone, only remembering he had forgotten it as he stepped back inside. He became frantic with the sight of six missed calls and a new email, not even stopping to listen to the voice messages.

Ford answered within one ring, beginning his yelling fit. Dipper apologized profusely and stated he was out in the forest for research, and bringing his phone slipped his mind. Although this calmed the other slightly, he still lectured him for ten minutes about phone safety and emergencies and the like, things Dipper had heard a hundred times over. He craved a smoke.

“I’m really, really sorry again, I won’t let it happen anymore. Anyway, what’s the reason for the email?” Dipper inquired unknowingly.

“Oh, right, right. Those are bus tickets I got for you, I need you to come down to Piedmont in the next few days, and ideally…not bring your car.” Ford realized that sounded suspicious, further explaining. “I found evidence of Bill’s remaining existence in this dimension, and we need to figure that out as quickly as possible, do you understand?” Ford rushed his words, equally scared and excited.

Dipper’s eyes flew open and he had to take a seat, trying to avoid falling from his sudden adrenaline rush. Oh, there’s no way he found it. The brunet considered all the ways he could mask the other’s mark, he had made a deal with the other, after all.

After a long silence, Ford grew agitated. “Dipper, are you there?”

Dipper jumped in his seat, trying to balance his voice and breathing. “Yeah, sorry, I’m just a little shocked. I’ll head down in a couple days.”

Ford nodded approvingly. “Good. Everything okay at home?”

Dipper answered affirmatively, stating he had collected more mushroom samples and was coming along with things, otherwise stuff was quiet.

They ceased conversation with a short goodbye, Dipper trying to catch his breath and let the room stop spinning. He shakily messaged his partner, feeling himself beginning to succumb to the need of deception.

[Please call me when you get home from work]. This was the simple message sent, knowing something else may be easier to track and more incriminating.

The teen sat back in his chair, frantically shaking the pack of smokes to distribute the tobacco. He felt almost instantly better as he inhaled the burning scent, opening a window as to not clog the house with it. Lost in thought, he savored the higher quality cigarettes, finding himself gradually calming down.

Dipper considered that this may be the last time he would ever see his great uncle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE'S AN INSERT IMAGE BUTTON-


	18. A Boy's Lament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't written in a few days, you know the deal. I've been struggling with being unhappy lately, but the fact that this is doing pretty well is...inspiring, to say the least. This chapter is dedicated to Miglė on this website, thank you so much for supporting my writing and telling me what you think! Your comment motivated me to write more, so my best wishes to you. -Will

Bill stretched in the stiff office chair, noting the cooler temperature in the room compared to when he had first started the job. He considered the changing months, almost baffled by how quickly everything flew by. It felt as if all of his memories played in one quick blur, exciting smearing with dismal.

The blond looked to his computer clock, noting that it was already five-thirty, time for him to clock out. He felt a certain relief, having lifted the heavy burden of finalizing organization of evidence for the Pines case off his shoulders.

Stepping out of his office, he noted only two others were still present on their floor. One of them was Stephen, as per the usual, but Bill noticed he had changed his hair color to a dark sapphire from purple. This bothered him internally, but Bill realized it may provide a sense of symbolism and respect to the deceased ghost boy. He hardly realized he had stopped to stare at the other through his half-closed blinds, the other raising an eyebrow from inside.

Bill sucked an awkward breath through his teeth, stepping backward to knock on his door four times. He soon heard a “You didn’t have to knock,” from inside, taking this as his cue to step in. The blond still remained apprehensive, noting the hint of annoyance in the blue-haired boy’s tone.

“You need something?” Stephen’s eyes glinted at the other, lowered brow shading his usually lustrous complexion.

“I…” Bill felt at a loss for words, feeling an unfamiliar sinking feeling in his stomach. This was one of the first times he could remember that he felt guilty that someone was angry with him. “I just wanted to check on you…I guess, sorry. Have a good night.” He moved to step back out of the office, being stopped by a forced mumble from the other.

“You’re fine, I…I’m sorry. Thanks for checking on me.” Stephen nodded to him and managed to muster up a half smile.

Bill smiled back at him, the concern reflecting in his eyes as he stepped out. He found himself subconsciously avoiding his boss’ look, Northwest being the other person still present in their sector. He just wanted to get home, rapidly stepping into the elevator.  Feeling an instant relief as he entered, the blond checked his phone.

He opened the text sent from Dipper, replying quickly and praying it would send with the poor elevator reception. [I have a bit before the bus comes, will call in a minute]. The blonde couldn’t particularly describe the warm feeling he got from the text, feeling appreciated, as if someone actually wanted to talk to him. It quelled his normally lonely state.

Stepping out of the building, he shook his pack of smokes to distribute the tobacco, eventually reaching the unusually barren bus stop. He thought to himself that people should be coming eventually, typically not being nearly a half hour early for the 6 PM bus.

Bill lit his cigarette and held it in his mouth, thinking of inviting his partner to the bar or something as he dialed the other’s number, but quickly realizing that Dipper was under the legal drinking age. “Cursed laws…” he mumbled to himself as he put the phone to his ear, taking a drag from his cigarette as the other end rang.

Dipper picked up after three rings, giving a nervous “Hey…?” not having checked the caller ID as he answered.

“Hey, it’s me. What’s happening?” Bill asked casually, tapping some ash from the cigarette onto the ground, where it was easily blown away by the wind.

Dipper had to do a double take, almost not recognizing Bill’s voice over the filter of the phone. “O-oh, it’s YOU, okay, it’s you. Sorry, I didn’t see that you got my text-…” Dipper trailed off, swallowing nervously.

“Uh…yeah. It’s me. So…are you okay? You sound kinda how you sound when you talk about Ford.” Bill was remarkably good at hearing people’s inflection, and after he got to know someone for a little bit, he could Sherlock Holmes style pull their emotions apart.

Dipper jumped at the other’s accuracy, deciding to not be humble about the whole thing, deeming it unnecessary for the seemingly still very powerful demon. “Well, okay. Where do I start? First of all, you’re right, this is about Ford.” He took a breath, almost hesitating for a question from the other. Not hearing one, he proceeded. “He uh…” The brunet trailed off again, new anxieties arising about if he was bugged or not.

Bill furrowed his brow, considering what the other’s apprehensions might be. He took another drag from his cigarette as he waited, eventually making a suggestion before Dipper spoke any further. “I’m taking the bus back to Gravity Falls, it comes at six. Do you want to come over and talk for a little bit in person?” Bill thought this to be a good suggestion, and this way his partner could see his place. Hell, they may even decide to hang out a bit, the blond considered.

Dipper wasn’t used to being invited to other’s places, but nodded at the prospect, feeling a strange longing to just be around the other. “That sounds good. I assume you’re reading my apprehensions,” the brunet broke his sentence to nervously laugh, “but I like the idea. Address?”

“I’m at 21st and Stewart, at the complex at Stewart. It’s a little north from the complex at Rose. You’ll step in and see my buzzer, no worries.” Bill responded casually, assuming that the dark blue Kia Optima in Dipper’s driveway belonged to him, so it would be easy for the other to drive over. He took another drag from his cigarette, noticing the wind picking up, the sky darker than usual for the early evening.

“Alright, I’ll head over there for 7 PM, okay?” Dipper finalized the plan, scribbling down Bill’s directions and planning to look up the route before he left. “I’ll see you later, have a safe ride.”

“You too, you too.” Bill hung up the phone, putting it back in his pocket. He subconsciously spun one of his piercings as he smoked, noticing that the industrial hurt a bit, but ignoring it.

Others began to arrive at the stop, a few shivering and adjusting their over layers with the cold, one couple huddling close to each other. They both looked slightly tipsy, yet happier than ever to be with each other, Bill assuming they had just had dinner and a few drinks. It gave him a certain feeling of fondness to see another couple, finding himself fantasizing about his time with Dipper later.

Bill decided on cooking for Dipper, knowing the only thing either of them had probably eaten that day was the milkshake. He resolved to stop by the supermarket a bit down from the stop to buy something good, not really keeping much food in the house other than basic staples. He…didn’t eat much.

The bus came with good time, Bill spending the ride scrolling through the news and making mocking comments about the one he only cared to call “President Asshole.” He found himself unusually interested with politics, although historically not being much of one to care about such things.

There was a light drizzle on the bus window, reflecting the street lights and various complexes of the outskirts of Portland, Bill appreciating the simple sight. He found himself able to see far off into the distance, yet still troubled about why he was unable to see well up close. The blond assumed it was a symptom of single vision but resolved to ask Dipper about it.

The bus ride went on, humble and quiet.

 

Bill was fortunate enough to arrive back at his apartment before it began to rain too hard, prepping the meal he had in mind. He tried to think about things Dipper mentioned he liked, as well as items that agreed with the Jewish diet. He managed to finish the meal without burning anything, happy with his achievement.

He checked his phone to ensure the other wasn’t trying to contact him, noting that the time was 6:56, but taking the now heavy rain into account. He could wait.

Around 7:10 he heard the buzzer, almost tripping over himself to get up and answer. “Yeah?”

“It’s Dipper,” the voice rang out.

“Come on up,” Bill responded, pressing the button to open the barrier. He unlocked his door, waiting outside.

The brunet approached quickly, hair and coat slightly wet from walking to the complex from his parking spot, but he felt a peculiar joy out of seeing the other again. The couple hugged, Bill opening the door further to let the other inside.

“Ooh, it smells nice in here. Wait-…” Dipper looked back at his partner, who was in the process of closing the slightly broken door. “You didn’t cook for me, right?”

“Oh-…was I not supposed to? I’m…” Bill felt slightly awkward as he turned around, clearing his throat and coughing slightly. He considered that the other already ate.

“No, no, you’re fine, I’m just…I’m a little surprised. Pleasantly surprised.” Dipper smiled slightly, his cheeks warming up with the heated room and the affectionate gesture of the other.

“Well, okay then. I took a guess that you hadn’t eaten since we went out for milkshakes,” Bill laughed slightly, following the other to the table.

Dipper laughed in return, taking what he presumed to be his seat. “You’re right. I did nearly smoke through that pack you gave me, though.” He scanned the food before him, noting that it was friendly for his diet. “You…uh…”

Bill nodded as he sat in the seat across from his partner. “Your…erm, your uncle wrote about being Jewish.” He hesitated at the mention of the other’s uncle. “So, I tried to accommodate, is it okay?” He found himself prying for the other’s praise, feeling the burning of their connection in his chest.

“Yeah, actually, it’s perfect. That…that was really thoughtful of you.” Dipper smiled at he sampled, praising him for his proficient cooking skill.

Bill returned the smile. “It’s no problem…” his brain blared the phrase “anything for you,” but decided not to say it out loud. He was surprised at his own cooking skill as he polished off his meal, considering that he may be better off if he ate a little more often.

It was as if Dipper had the strikingly accurate intuition in order to know exactly what his partner was thinking, his reading of the thought realistically just a symptom of their spiritual bond. He quirked up an eyebrow that went unnoticed by the blond but decided to ignore the phrase he heard.

After they finished the meal, Dipper recited a quick blessing as his partner cleared the plates. As he finished, the brunet inquired, “Do you want me to do the dishes?”

“Oh no, no, no, I’ll take care of them myself. Watch.” Bill took the opportunity to show off to the other, waving his hand over the sink as if he was disposing water. He mumbled a cleansing incantation under his breath in his native language, then snapping his fingers to return the pots and dishes to their correct places.

Dipper’s eyes glinted with curiosity, fear, and admiration of the other’s skill, clapping at the other joyfully. “Fantastic!” he exclaimed.

The other took a joking bow, eventually stretching out his hand to take the brunet’s, leading him to the couch. He had made sure to clean up the place a bit of cigarettes and bottles from various alcoholic beverages, lighting a scented candle near the area to cover up some of the smoke smell. There remained a damaged patch of carpet from the apartment fire incident, but this was the extent of the damage.

Dipper took a comfortable seat next to the other, nearly forgetting why he was there. He seemed slightly out of it, examining the various features of the place he hadn’t seen before. “These new apartments are nice,” he remarked, reflecting on the new urbanization of the side city.

Bill nodded. “Cheap too, and everything is around here which is convenient. I…I don’t exactly know how to drive.” He laughed guiltily, placing an arm comfortably in the back of his partner. “So…what was your trouble on the phone earlier? I’ve disabled hearing devices here, so we should be good.” The blond reassured the other.

Dipper nodded, feeling an undeniable trust for his partner. He recalled the issue. “So, I got an email from Ford, he’s…he bought me bus tickets to Piedmont. But the reason is because…um…” He trailed off, breaking his gaze to his partner, squeezing his hands nervously.

Bill quirked up his brow, hackles up. He considered the other may have found out something, what if his goal was to kill off the second Pines twin? He gritted his teeth. “Go on…?”

“Well…I called him back because he had called me when we were out. And…he apparently found evidence that you…” he broke his sentence to gaze up at his partner solemnly. “He knows you exist in this dimension still.”

Bill didn’t seem entirely surprised, knowing the ill-conceived scientist was intelligent enough to figure that out. “Okay, I’m going to ask a weird question. I’m not mad, by the way.” He moved to touch the other’s shoulder affectionately, but when his partner flinched away, he worriedly pulled his hand away.

“Uh…sorry. Uh…okay, so when you were talking to him, did he sound like ‘I know the detective who’s working for you is Bill’ mad, or ‘I figured out he’s still alive and here via some ancient ruins’ excited?” Bill pulled his hand to his lap, fidgeting nervously. He didn’t know why his partner retaliated to his touch like that.

“Well…” Dipper considered for a second, planning to apologize for his reaction after his statement. “He wasn’t calling to yell at me for being a fool, and certainly didn’t make it sound like he knew where in this dimension you were, so I’m going to assume the latter.” The brunet searched the other’s gaze for reassurance and apologized for his movement once he found it, stating he was just feeling anxious.

Bill nodded, being put at ease by both of the other’s statements. “It was smart of you to not want to talk on the phone about it,” He remarked in praise of his partner, wanting to be physically affectionate but recalling the other’s reaction earlier.

Dipper smiled, feeling warmth from the other’s approval. “You can touch me, it’s okay. Again, sorry about that. That might take a little bit to…it might take a bit to break that habit.”

Bill nodded understandingly, wrapping a warming arm around his partner. “Wow…” he remarked, gazing through his window, now heavily coated in rain that refracted the outside lights into beautiful melds of color. “Who knew your family could be so…corrupt.” His previously neutral face pinched with resentment, although still holding the other affectionately.

Dipper felt like crying again, feeling the safety of his partner, having the intuition to know that he wouldn’t ridicule him. “Yeah…I don’t like to talk about it…actually…” he trailed off, biting his lip. He tried to stop the tightening of his throat, not understanding what provoked such a feeling of resentment. “It’s not that. I don’t…I don’t have anyone to talk about it with.” His voice broke at the end of his sentence, subconsciously leaning into his partner’s chest to quell his loneliness.

Bill let out a low, concerned hum, pulling the other closer and adjusting himself to make Dipper more comfortable. He understood the feeling, surprisingly, after his brother died, he felt a similar sense of suspension and lostness from his being. It was complicated, yet he was able to feel the other’s bitterness so specifically.

Dipper continued to battle with his mind and body, trying not to cry, thinking that nineteen-year-old almost-men should be out looking for a wife, or getting a sustainable job, or…not dating a demon. Definitely not that.

His guilt persevered nevertheless, creeping up on him so much so that he took the other’s shirt in his shaky grip, not entirely sure what he was holding onto anymore. His tears began to spill, face pained with the force by which he sobbed.

Bill felt his empathy triggering, still being slightly foreign to what he was used to. He felt his own throat tighten at the sight of the other but felt his role as the stronger partner allow him to focus on comforting Dipper, rubbing his jaggedly pulsing shoulders through heavy sobs, cooing lowly to him. “I’m sorry, my dear…” he felt his words sincerely, not appreciating the fact that the one he was bonded to was feeling such pain and resentment.

A more cynical side of him spoke in his mind, demanding that he take drastic action, stating that it was unallowable for his partner to be pained as so. Bill shook his head and dismissed it as he worked to console the other, thinking he could consider action plan later.

The other’s voice was admittedly consoling to Dipper, filling a certain spot of his conscious he felt had been missing since he was a child, the completely trusting comfort of an older figure. He continued to cry, the drastic nature by which his body pulsed slowly calming, being replaced by profuse apologizing.

Bill shook his head, resolving to not lecture the other, but still attempting to reinforce the fact that he needn’t apologize. “Don’t be sorry…no, no, we’ll fix this. I’m going to fix this, okay?” The blond gazed to his vulnerable partner that was practically curled up in his lap, running an affectionate hand through his hair.

Dipper nodded into his partner’s warm chest, sniffling, never wanting to leave Bill’s grasp.

“I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm busy with a project for school related to character design, so I've been working on drawing those things nonstop, but I will eventually include some art in this.


	19. His Story Repeats Itself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a doozy to write, haha. It gets a little sad at the end, general warnings, conspiring to murder, blah blah blah, you know. Now we're getting into the good stuff. -Will

After the partners had their comfort session, for lack of a better term, they began to speak casually.

“So, what day do you have to leave?” Bill asked, taking a sip from his drink.

“Wednesday. I’m…I’m a little nervous. God, no…words allude me. I’m afraid.” Dipper accentuated the last word, squeezing the other’s hand for comfort.

“I know you are…” Bill pondered quietly, fighting against the screaming voices in his head. The obstinate tones warned of danger, pushing the prospects of murder and deceit.

“Are…uh…” Dipper gazed into the glowing eyes of his partner, the other obviously troubled and lost in some kind of inconceivable thought. When a response from his partner was not heard, he tried again, a bit more seriousness in his voice. “Bill-?”

Bill jumped slightly, eyes flashing as his mind rebooted again. He stuttered, taking a quick breath. “N-no-…” he first answered his own thought before looking into the concerned eyes on his partner. “Yeah…yes? Sorry.”

“I’m sorry this is troubling you…” the brunet began to softly apologize.

“No! Don’t apologize, please. I’m…magic, for godssake, I should be handling this multitudes better than you.” The detective put a concerned hand to his mouth, eyes darting as he thought. “What would you…” he began, trying to conjure up the correct words. “How would you feel if…your uncle…uh-…” Bill sighed and clenched his jaw, words failing him.

Dipper nodded, wrapping his arm around the other. “How about I tell you what I…REALLY want to do, and you tell me how accurate it is compared to your suggestion.” Dipper wasn’t as afraid to admit certain things to Bill, as they both had some possibly incriminating secrets, they had previously shared.

Bill considered, giving a soft “go for it,” before giving the other his full attention.

Dipper took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I want to be rid of him. Forever. I can keep his research and improve on it but…I…we can’t go on like this. They can put him in jail for the rest of his short life, they can torture him…I don’t know. What are the laws on capital punishment here?” The other was clearly frenzied, blunt statement quickly morphing into something convoluted.

Bill let out a low chuckle, eyes darkening slightly. “I never thought you’d think so similarly to me, Dipper Pines…” his voice was a sweet drawl as he traced his partner’s jawline, eyes half lidded. The detective felt an indescribably close connection to the boy, especially with this suggestion.

The brunet became tense with the sudden move of lust but trusted the other enough to attempt to ease into it. He also failed to deny the fact that the other’s voice was capturing, his movements also undeniably so.

“Well…your question leads me to my next point.” Bill continued, a warm hand resting in the crook of the other’s neck. “In Oregon, the only crime punishable by death is aggravated murder, in which…your uncle is guilty of, by definition. Actually, by multiple definitions. So…he’ll face death. And I’m so good that there’s no doubt he will.”

Dipper nodded, considering the other’s point. It was a strange contrast to him to be plotting to kill the uncle he respected and revered so much just a few years ago. “But…don’t these cases usually take about a year to process? And then again, if they put him on death row…what if he escapes? He’s a powerful scientist, after all…” His anxieties spilled out of him, becoming more and more tense with every invasive thought of revenge.

“Shh…” Bill put a finger gently to the other’s mouth. “You’re right.” He simply mumbled, leaning so his face was no longer a casual distance from his partner’s. The detective moved his hand to lay a soft kiss to the other’s lips. “We’ll do it your way.”

Dipper felt his muscles weaken with the other’s affection, heat rushing to his face. “O-okay…okay. My way…” He stammered out, resisting his urge for more from his dream partner.

“Good boy.” Bill smiled as he leaned back in his seat, appreciating that he was able to make his partner so unstable with a mere sign of affection.

The next couple hours proved to be strange, mostly related to planning out how they would execute the other’s murder. They discussed how fast Ford was able to work in figuring out where Bill resided, the internal sociopathy of the detective proving to be an effective aid in planning.

The date and time were sent, the method, and possible backup plans if something were to go wrong. They considered what to do afterward, in which Dipper proved his blind dedication to the detective with a few simple yet bold words.

“I’ll follow you wherever you lead me.”

The two planned to escape, Bill having the ability to flee since he had held up his end of the deal in figuring out who murdered his brother. Too bad for the people he left behind at the bureau, but…there would always be someone a little more trustworthy and a little less unstable.

Dipper left the apartment with a small box of sweets from his partner and a massive weight of moral corruption on his shoulders.

 

Avery sighed as she checked her phone, seeing a message from Sol, still resentful after the death of his ex-partner. She had only gotten up the courage to delete Romeo’s number a few days ago, wondering what Sol wanted to do with her. Tempted to ignore it, she swallowed her bitterness and checked.

[So, Sebastiana hates me now and I need you to talk to her about Stephen. He isn’t doing good.]

[Alright]. came her simple response, still not having the energy to do much else but respond with short phrases. She wasn’t entirely sure why she remained so torn up about her friend but shook it off day by day.

Avery called up Sebastiana, the other surprised at her call.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” The response to the call came quickly.

“Uh…okay, I guess. I brought myself to start working again, which is good, but…a lot of things remind me of him. You know.” Avery sighed slightly, awaiting a response.

Sebastiana hummed, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. If you need any help, really, feel free to ask.”

Avery nodded, reciprocating the other’s statement. “Anyway, the reason I’m calling is because Sol,” she sneered the name slightly, “told me to tell you that Stephen isn’t doing very good. Actually, I heard similarly from Bill earlier, but…I don’t know.”

Sebastiana considered. “I had a talk with him about this…actually. I guess we’re having another talk when I get home.” The sibling’s tone darkened, brow lowering.

“O-oh…okay. Well…good luck with that. I’ll…I’ll see you this weekend, okay?” Avery verified their upcoming night out.

Sebastiana’s tone lightened immediately at the prospect, nodding. “Definitely! I’ll look forward to it. And take care of yourself, okay?”

Avery hummed her affirmation and goodbye, hanging up the phone. Although unstable, she couldn’t put a more valid reason on why she felt like crying. The world seemed impending, doomed even, with so much going dark at once. Everyone was rushing, everyone was busy, everyone was stressed out of their minds. Yet time seemed to crawl so slowly for her.

The night was spent with wine and tears.

 

Bill attended work the next day, finalizing any more reports he had to submit and obtaining a court date for Stanford…but not one the scientist would be attending, of course.

Northwest praised him for his work, stating that he would soon have his new job, he just needed a week to verify it. Another statement caught the blond’s eye, though, this related to his time off.

“So, you’ll start September 25. Since you’ve finished what you need here…this would be a good time to take a week off, maybe. As long as you can respond to emails and such.” Northwest suggested, almost not believing that he was saying it to one of his employees.

Bill nodded, grinning. “Would I be able to take tomorrow off, and…then until next Monday?” He bit his lip, hoping the short notice would be allowed.

“I don’t see why not. Just put it on your calendar, and you’re good to go.” Northwest nodded.

“Thank you, sir.” Bill stood up, giving the other a firm handshake before stepping out and heading home.

[I’m coming over, is that good?] Bill shot a text to Dipper, who had been longing to see the other after the night previous.

[All clear, I’ll be excited to see you]. Dipper texted back quickly, grinning at the prospect of seeing his partner again. This time, he’d cook.

After a friendly meal, he challenged Bill to a game of pool, using the table residing in his great uncle’s old room. They smoked and casually chatted, Bill being acutely talented at the game for having such little depth perception. The two experienced a few sweet moments where the detective worked to fix the other’s aim, helped him hold the cue, and the like. The whole thing was very casual, the two sitting across from each other in the dimly lit room after their small game.

“So, I got the next week off until Monday.” Bill grinned at his achievement, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray on the windowsill.

“Fantastic!” Dipper exclaimed, still savoring his. The brunet was so taken by the plan that he could hardly think of anything else, willingly putting his life and future into Bill’s hands. He imagined it as a lovely one, the hereditary greed kicking in. He wanted fortune, he wanted everything he could possibly imagine studying at his command, the immortality, the love, the adventure, it was all immensely appealing. He never thought he would be able to run away with his dream partner and explore other dimensions, but that is precisely what this opportunity gave to him.

Bill recognized this glint in the other’s eyes, knowing just what his partner was thinking. He loved this involuntary worship and submission, feeding off of it as if it was some kind of exploitable energy. He rose from his seat, grasping the other by the chin and laying a sudden kiss to his face, smiling smugly as he pulled back.

Dipper laughed and stood to…almost meet the other’s height, forcefully putting out his cigarette. “Oh, you’re everything I could ever want,” he purred lustfully, capturing the detective in another kiss.

The two went on like this for a while, some hair tugging being executed and reciprocated, but their small love-induced tussle ending as they went to further business, discussing other matters.

The blond sat gracefully down, crossing his legs, eyes pleasantly narrowed as gazed to his lovely partner. They shared stories of other times, even getting up to do a lame slow dance and laughing harder every time they tripped over each other’s legs.

Dipper heard his phone vibrating and excused himself, arriving back into the room with a horrified expression. “He, uh…” he managed to force those words out through a hard swallow, hardly able to look at his partner.

Bill tried to find the other’s gaze, expression souring with the other’s clear discontent. “He what?” there was an edge to his words, eyes glowing slightly.

“He knows who you are…and where you are. And that…he knows that you’re the detective.” Dipper’s breaths were quick and uneven as he tried to refocus his vision but failed. He expected a stress-induced reaction from the other, and that’s exactly what he got.

“Oh…GOD!!” Bill screamed with rage, sharp teeth as visible as ever with his expression of frustration. He paced heavily around the room, running a hand through his hair and swinging his other arm as he spoke. “That scientist is going to fucking kill me-…Dipper, do you know what he can do to me? Do you know what he did to my brother? He’s going to fucking disintegrate me atom by atom for his greedy fucking research bullshit…” He trailed into frustrated drawls in his native language as he sat angrily on the firm guest bed, staring down at his shaking hands.

“I-I…” Dipper froze a bit to the other’s screaming and threatening gestures, easily triggered by such things. He felt dizzy and leaned against the wall for support, knowing he might need to run.

“Going to kill me, going to kill me, going to kill me and you, just like my fucking brother, god fucking dammit…” Bill tightened his hands to fists as he seemingly mumbled nonsense, rising a pillar of flame from the small candle as a means of releasing some energy.

Dipper backed himself into a corner, feeling the tears pricking his eyes, an appropriate reminder that he was about to allow himself to run off with a crazy man with a potentially lethal mental disorder. He clawed at the wall for further support, feeling his eyes starting to roll back into his head as an anxious reaction. “Oh fuck…” he drawled under his breath, knees buckling.

Bill’s hostile gaze shot over to his partner, seeing his anxious reaction. His empathy failed to trigger properly, instead just tearing out of the house. He scribbled a messy note before he left, leaving it where he assumed the other would collapse.

“I’ll be back for the bus tomorrow at noon.” It was cold and scrawled, the other furiously trudging outside to yell, almost completely forgetting his partner’s potentially dangerous condition.

The brunet passed out from his nervous reaction, waking up to feel an unmistakable nausea and a paper stuck to his face. He sat up and managed to focus enough to read it.

“He…he just left me here.”

Dipper cried alone.

 

Bill spent his night with more than a few bottles of hard liquor, setting fire to everything he could get his hands on in his blackout dreams, burning buildings, people, papers, forests, whatever he could. It felt satisfying to be able to drunkenly indulge in his own sorrow once again, even if it came to him in the form of a hallucination.

The dreams consisted of only vague figures of what he loved, his apathy and indulgence allowing him to feed into the desire to destroy, screaming aimlessly about complicated feelings he’d never cared to think enough depth about.

The Sociopath needn’t speak to him in more than whispers, the other taking the wheel just as effectively as necessary.

“He can’t kill you if you kill yourself first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are a couple songs that are a little fitting for Billdip:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=thdzFGMoiic  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lr2zjlYf8Mc  
> And yes, Bill can cook, which is unusual. I also headcanon he's good with his hands in terms of machine work and crafting.


	20. The Scientist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally written so much for this AU that Word no longer offers me to "pick me back up where I left off," which is kind of funny. Anyway, serious warnings for this chapter, graphic depictions of death, bleeding, and other harmful themes. I mean, what chapter DOESN'T include these, hah. Anyway, enjoy! And thank you all for your entertaining comments, it gives me great joy to read them! -Will

The alarm blared at 11 AM, Bill letting out an audibly pained groan as he rolled over to turn it off. Light gently seeped through the detective’s blinds, yet this blindingly painful to his ravaging headache.

He attempted to roll over and go back to sleep but failed with an incredible nausea that slapped him in the face, his throat constricting. The thoughts of what he did last night raced through his head but he shook them away as he ran to the sink, his body violently expelling whatever toxins were still left inside of him.

The detective’s body shook as if it had been though some kind of heavy labor, eventually washing out the sink and his mouth with hot water. He leaned against the wall for desperate support, being barely able to stand with a swirling mind and unsteady muscles.

“What did I do last night…” Bill pondered to himself quietly, voice coming out weak and broken from the acid still residing in his throat. He remembered Dipper and the incident, guilt and panic that was previously dismissed finally kicking in.

He felt mortified at his actions, knowing how dangerous it was to leave the other passed out on the floor in favor of going to wallow in his own misery, but he tried to get past it with a deep breath and some reasoning. “I’ll apologize.”

Bill was determined to make things right, his magic healing him in a rapid fashion that was deserving of jealousy from other heavy drinkers. Taking steps to alleviate his headache and cleanse his mouth, the other prepared for the most important day of this life cycle.

 

At 11:50 AM, unexpectedly early compared to Bill’s usual tardiness, he arrived at the shack, a milkshake and fresh flowers in hand.

Dipper was exceedingly apprehensive to open the door, feeling constrictions in his chest as he heard the knocking, knowing it could only be one person. He knew his face was probably still swollen from crying, smoke having filled the shack as he polished off the rest of the cigarettes.

Bill’s eyebrow’s furrowed and he knocked again, considering the brunet might be in the other room. “Dipper?” He called out uneasily. “I…I’m sorry.” This was a sincere apology only used when he truly messed up, and he was able to see that without an influenced perspective.

Dipper sighed slightly and got up, opening the door cautiously and seeming to hide behind it. He barely knew what to say, not seeing the presents the other had hidden behind his back. “Sorry for what?” He asked gently as a method of making sure the other was being sincere.

“I’m sorry for being so selfish.” Bill swallowed hard, still feeling the slight burn of acid in the back of his throat, averting his guilt-stricken gaze. “If I were a good partner, I would have helped you when you panicked…no…” He met his partner’s gaze once again. “I wouldn’t have overreacted because I know how upset that makes you.”

Dipper bit at his chapped lips as he thought, nodding slightly. He moved to reveal himself more, fumbling with his hands awkwardly. “I…I accept your apology. I’m still upset, but…that’s on me. I should be a little more understanding.” He glanced at the other’s feet, beginning to babble. “I mean, I’m not the one dealing with people after me, I mean it’s not like…” Dipper trailed off upon seeing the gifts the other revealed, eyes flying open.

Bill managed to crack a smile and hand his partner the milkshake and the lovely blue orchids, wringing his hands nervously once they were clear. “I mean, I hate to be materialistic, but…I really do feel bad. So, I tried to get you things you liked.” He reasoned gently, stepping inside the shack once the other allowed him in.

Dipper returned the smile, setting the orchids down tenderly on the kitchen counter and sipping his milkshake happily.  “This is really kind of you. But…” His brow furrowed as he thought of the best way to word his statement. “We need to have a more serious talk.”

Bill nodded understandingly, following his brunet into the living room and pleased with the fact that the other’s wrath wasn’t as severe as expected. Sitting down next to his partner on the couch, he folded his hands politely and looked to the other with a gaze of inquiry.

Dipper began. “I…I guess I have some questions. And I also have to admit a few things.” He checked the other’s face for a signal to proceed, and seeing a clear nod, he continued.

“What’s with the language thing? It kind of sounds like you’re speaking in tongues when you’re frustrated…” He trailed off slightly, internalized superstition getting to him. After all, he was dating a literal demon, but that was no matter.

“Well…” Bill started, licking his lips as he tried to find the right words. “I guess you could call it a ‘Native Language,’ that’s like…how I communicate with Will and stuff. Most entities can’t understand it because it seems to change to others, but in our…I guess you could call it a circle, we can understand it. I know quite a few interdimensional languages actually…you know, for when we travel.” Bill winked and smiled slightly.

Dipper smiled back and nodded understandingly. “Okay, I was just more curious about that than anything,” He lied slightly about his own apprehensions, but this seemed to fly under the radar of the demon. “So, when we were in the basement that day and the other night, you kind of had…gosh, how do I say it? Like you were possessed.”

Dipper was cut off slightly by the other opening his mouth to speak, trying to clear any suspicions up. At the nod of the brunet, the detective began. “Ok, so…actually, Romeo told me this a while back.” He cringed slightly at the name. “I guess I show signs of a personality disorder? I mean, it kind of corresponds to how I was in my other form, so it makes sense. There’s one that’s sociopathic and vengeful, there’s one that’s plain apathetic, and there’s one that’s…well, it victimizes. It’s strange but in certain situations it’s like they come out to protect me, and…I just have to deal with it.” He concluded with a shrug, noticing the other’s fascination.

The brunet began, obviously intrigued. “I’ve heard of what you’re talking about.” He thought for a second, remembering researching various disorders after he was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. “I find it interesting…well, not in a positive way of course, that those traits carried. But…they seem different than before. Am I right in saying that?”

Bill nodded, agreeing. “You’re absolutely right. I think my brother’s death kind of…did something to me. And the figures that were previously just bargaining and wrath morphed into things of protection.” He had never talked about his situation in so much depth, it almost feeling good to address it with another.

Dipper decided to not bring up the sadism and masochism, knowing it might be troubling and that they didn’t have a lot of time to spare. “Anyway…I’m sorry for this. I’ll admit…like, when I freak out like that, it’s a panic reaction. So just watch out for that, I guess?” He shrugged, not entirely sure what to say.

Bill put a gentle hand to his shoulder, pleased when Dipper didn’t flinch. “I understand. I’ll…try better next time.”

The two exchanged a determined and loving glance, Bill giving a chaste make-up kiss to the other’s forehead before he stood up. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” He stated with a deep breath, stretching slightly and walking to the door. He had a small backpack with his necessary materials, having already bought the bus ticket the Monday previous.

The two quietly strolled to the bus stop, but the silence was easy and welcomed, the partners hand-in-hand. Almost exactly upon their arrival the bus rolled up, the two stepping in the suspiciously barren vehicle.

The slightly dismal driver took their tickets and they sat down, not long settling in before they took off once again.

The sunny, temperate trip would be one of the last the two would take.

 

Dipper had worked in his journal for the majority of the trip, doing an admittedly flattering sketch of Bill’s profile as a small break, the other smiling upon seeing it and keeping it safe in his bag. “You’re getting better,” he remarked casually, putting a comfortable arm around his partner.

In the last couple hours of the trip, Dipper had fallen asleep in the other’s radiating warmth, Bill continuing to read the news on his phone with low brightness, appreciating the other’s sweet sleep. It was a humbly intimate bus ride, Bill waking the other up about ten minutes before their expected arrival, sensing an unhappy dream with the other, paired with the brunet’s gentle shifts.

“Dear, wake up…” Bill mumbled gently and shook the other’s shoulder, brow furrowing in concern when he didn’t. “Dipper,” he asserted more sternly, the other waking with a sharp jolt and a gasp.

The brunet rubbed his eyes under his glasses as he tried to pull in shaky breaths, stomach still sinking. “Sorry…what? Are you okay?” Confused and slurred mumbles came from the shaking teen.

“I should be asking the same to you…” Bill mumbled in a clearly concerned voice. “Your dreams didn’t seem exactly…happy.” He gently ran his fingers through the other’s hair, trying to keep his gaze.

“Oh…that happens every time I ride the bus. Or any transportation, actually…I’ve had some wild plane dreams. Don’t give me a Xanax before I go on a flight.” He laughed casually, seeming to have calmed down slightly.

Bill nodded, closing his eyes trustingly. “If you say so. We’re also…we’re also ten minutes away.” He pulled out a notebook and a pen, twirling it in his left hand as he thought.

Dipper nodded, knowing exactly what this meant from their earlier discussed plan, the two communicating through scribbled notes in order to not alert the bus driver or any devices listening.

They verified their plan of action, Bill handing a small handgun to Dipper. “If you see anything, shoot twice, you and I will be out of there in a hot second.” Dipper nodded, taking the gun and shoving it in his own bag. They discussed further plans, now the murder would be executed by Bill, how he’d cloak himself to get past barriers that Ford had most likely set up.

It seemed like a perfect plan, possible holes covered up fairly well, Dipper feeling an uncanny rush of excitement and anticipation with the act of horrid moral corruption.

It was truly too bad that they didn’t know Ford was waiting outside for them and knew full well that Bill was approaching.

 

Upon arrival at the bus stop, the two thanked the driver, Bill tipping him ten dollars, lifting the previously dismal man’s mood slightly. They stepped out and began their trek uphill, making sure no other cars were in the line of sight of the isolated manor. They ensured their weapons were on hand, Bill easily able to cloak himself and still be enabled to use his magic.

Upon approaching the towering manor, Bill put a protective hand over Dipper’s chest and abruptly stopped, staring at something in the distance. Suddenly, an intense yell was heard from the detective. “In the bushes, now!”

Dipper jumped at the command but obeyed, immediately feeling resentful that things were not going perfectly to plan. He wished Bill the best, the other a freakishly fast white streak across the night as he willed himself around the area, searching for where it was best to sneak up on the scientist.

A furious growl was heard from the older man who pulled out a vaporizing gun, hands unusually unsteady as he prepared to fight. “Reveal yourself, or I’ll have a reason to tear you apart atom by atom, you bastard!” Ford yelled into the distance, being unable to see the other.

“Oh ho, just a little too late.” Bill’s voice hummed in the night, using his sadistic personality to find a certain joy in committing the act. “Behind you, Sixer.”

Ford turned rapidly on his heel and shot, ending up just shooting a hole through his door. With his temporary confusion, Bill took the opportunity to slam the heavy steel rod on the scientist’s head, knocking him out almost instantly.

“That’s how I like it.” Bill mumbled and dragged the other into the house, signaling to Dipper that Ford was to be taken care of.

Dipper signaled back affirmatively, determined in keeping a careful watch on the street.

“How ironic that the murderer is being murdered, hm?” A grin tugged at the other’s mouth, eyes flying wide with a glowing sense of pride and thirst. He moved to the kitchen, tying the scientist to a chair, noting the heavy bleeding coming from his scalp. The detective knew that it was most likely a surface wound, but he remained slightly concerned that he wouldn’t get as much joy out of this as he thought.

Surprisingly, the other awoke fairly quickly afterward, noted by a soft groan of pain and a struggle of his hands. “Oh…you’re kidding…” came Ford’s slurred voice, struggling weakly against his bounds.

Bill sat on the counter, elevated menacingly above the scientist, eyes emitting a soft blue light. He began to ridicule the other. “Thought you were so smart, huh? I found your writings, and I find it hilarious that you thought you could get away with harming the one I hold dearest.” The blond left it at that, experimenting to see if the other would attempt to play dumb or not.

“No…what…I didn’t do anything…I have the…” Ford’s statement was broken by another pained groan and a hard swallow. “I have the right to testify for myself…” He knew damn well the other had solved the case but was curious as to why he had put so much effort into it.

“Oh yes, you have a court date. It’s just not one you’ll be attending, after I’m finished with you.” Bill’s tone darkened to a deadly purr, his eyes narrowing with villainous intent.

Ford gathered up the energy to struggle more, finding it difficult to trick his way out of these ropes. He started to yell to the best of his ability, the other rapidly silencing him with bandages tied around his mouth.

The detective let out a low chuckle, his eyes flying open as he cocked his head to the side with a sharp crack, an unmistakably toothy grin of insanity being the last thing Ford could remember seeing before his vision blurred to near nothingness.

For his last moments, the scientist felt the immensely overwhelming pain of a large knife in his neck, the demon having ruptured his jugular and windpipe with three wrathful stabs. Quickly losing consciousness, the older man convulsed against his bounds, the last thing he heard being the detective’s shrill laughter and one final comment.

“I made a promise the other day. You know what that was?” Bill paused to look the near-corpse straight in the eyes.

“I promised to protect Dipper at all costs. And you,” Bill paused his statement to remove the knife from the other’s throat to allow him to bleed out. “…were forcing me to break that promise.”

Almost as if to conclude Bill’s statement, two gunshots were heard outside.


	21. In Perfect Hindsight...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm either depressed because break is almost over for me again or because...well, when am I /not/ dismal?  
> Enjoy the thing, I hope. Youse all are great. -Will

Bill saw his vision flash momentarily as his concentration was broken, understanding the signal and wondering what could have possibly alerted Dipper. In a flash, he rushed outside and picked up the hiding brunet, fleeing as far into the dark forest as his magic and energy would let him.

“What-…what was that? What did you see?” The detective was clearly breathless, on edge from the whole thing, but satisfied that he was able to execute the murder before they were caught.

Dipper began to sob uncontrollably, hugging his partner for security although the blond still held a bloody knife and was extensively blood stained. “I-I…I sh…” He failed to get words out between breathless sobs, not caring about the blood on the other’s clothing.

Concerned, Bill sat him on the floor and let the other curl into his lap, shushing him gently, although he doubted that anyone would hear them this deep in the forest. “What did you do? What did you see?” He inquired firmly, running a comforting hand through the other’s hair. He knew that such an execution could be endlessly frightening, especially to someone like Dipper.

The brunet managed to slow his breathing enough to force words out, shaking like a madman. “I sh-s-shot someone-I-I…I thought-…I-I c-can’t aim I’m….” He let out another loud cry, clearly panicking over what he had done.

Bill felt his heart jump in his throat at the other’s confession, eyes flying wide. “I…I doubt you shot them…maybe they were frightened.” He tried to reason, hoping to god that what Dipper was saying was inaccurate.

“Bill.” Dipper’s voice drawled with horror and panic. “I saw the blood shoot out of them and-…” He took a few panicked breaths, once again feeling dizzy. “And they cried-…and I killed someone Bill, I killed someone, oh my god-…I killed an innocent person, oh my _god_!” He screamed into the endless abyss that the trees created around them, burying his face in his partner’s chest that still smelled sharply of blood.

Bill internalized his partner’s pain, biting his lip regretfully and closing his eyes as he continued to console the other, rubbing his back. “My dear…” he hummed words of comfort, trying to get any solace he could from the other. “It’s not your fault. And…I have an idea.”

Dipper looked up weakly to meet the other’s gaze. “Wh-what is it?”

“Well…” Bill considered for a second. “I can scope out the area and…well, I can perform healing magic for the wound, and then I can wipe their memory. Do you know how close other houses are?”

Dipper considered for a second, his mind frantically racing in fifteen different directions. “He’s…he’s pretty is-isolated…maybe…a half mile?”

Bill nodded at the estimate. “Okay, if you’re comfortable, let’s head back, and I can see if any police are there. I doubt anyone heard the shots, but…I know your upset about hurting whoever that was.” The blonde broke the gaze as he stood up, helping the other clammily to his height.

Dipper nodded and sniffed, wiping his tears away, but more came soon. “O-okay…” he held onto Bill’s arm for support as they raced through the forest, Bill stopping about 20 feet away from the crime scene to analyze the situation.

“We’re clear…” the blond whispered after a while, the now steadier teen and the detective creeping towards he victim, who had two clear shot wounds near his heart, but not through it. The injury was enough to kill him, Bill determining this with a pulse check, elated at the fact that he wouldn’t have to waste energy on extensive organ repair.

Dipper couldn’t bring himself to look at the victim, feeling nauseated at the excessive smell of blood he’d been forced to sit through, going over to a tree and watching from a distance.

Bill got to work once he determined the only living human in a close radius was Dipper. He cleaned himself off with a snap, using the now clean knife and a few candles he had brought with him to cut out a healing circle in the earth below the victim.

Dipper was mortified at the sight of the victim glowing and being lifted by the other’s magic as he drew the circle, wanting to turn and look away, but being too occupied with looking out for others that may interfere.

Laying the candles out in his specified pattern, the detective lit them with a short pillar of flames, the color being unnaturally crimson. He recited a cleansing incantation followed by one that enforced healing and repair, drawing some of his own blood to finalize the process. The victim was clean and healed, Bill having extracted the bullets fairly easily.

The candles put out themselves, Bill kicking the dirt to remove evidence of the circle and gathering his candles, then remembering he had to wipe the other’s memory. Exhausted from overuse of his inconvenient body, he sighed and dropped to his knees, meditating for a brief moment.

After his process, he mustered up enough energy to finalize the cover-up, placing a warm hand to the forehead of the now breathing vessel, closing his eyes as he searched for the last few memories. Upon finding them, he destroyed just enough for the man to remember walking through the forest up to that specific area, hoping that the man just would guess he passed out when he inevitably woke up.

Dipper looked admiringly to his partner at work, although still slightly traumatized for almost causing the death of an _innocent_ man, but his face soon morphed into one of dismay as the detective collapsed, hearing a defeated groan.

The brunet was alerted, running to the side of his partner and remarking to himself about what a good job Bill did with the victim. “Bill? Are you alright?” He made sure not to be too loud, but loud enough that the other could hear him in a partly conscious state.

The demon’s eyes flickered as he looked up to the other, mumbling something incomprehensible to the boy before weakly grabbing his arm. He swallowed hard and took a breath, finally mustering up a “get in the trees,” before releasing his grip and going limp.

Dipper felt himself panic again, tears welling up in his eyes. He cursed their stupid plan and he cursed his selfishness and self-fulfilled prophecy of greed, dragging his partner to the best of his ability as far into the trees as he could manage, making sure to set him down gently.

The brunet sat gently down on the forest floor, bringing the other’s head into his lap and brushing the blonde bangs out of his eyes, barely able to see the other through the tears and blood that stained his glasses.

All three of the entity’s eyes were closed, his skin appearing slightly ashen and clammy, unlike usual. He was obviously in discomfort, his pulse rapid as it tried to keep up with the energy the rest of his body had been spending.

Dipper clenched his jaw and continued to examine him for other injuries, deeming it that the other probably exhausted himself with magic use. He was still tempted to call the police as he had never seen Bill just…collapse, but he knew that would probably be the worst thing to do right now.

After a few minutes of the other’s internal debating, the blond began to awake, denoted with a high whine and a hand that reached up to Dipper’s shoulder, dimly glowing eyes soon reflecting slightly off of the other’s shirt.

Dipper sighed with relief at the development, running a comforting hand through his partner’s hair and pulling him closer, a concerned glint in his bloodshot eyes. “Bill…?” The name fell out apprehensively.

Bill looked weakly up to his partner, eyes still flickering as his body tried to recharge. He first only drawled nonsense words before shaking his head slightly and managing to say something that Dipper would actually understand. “Overdid it…”

“Clearly…” Dipper replied gently, helping the other sit up slightly. “You’re shaking a lot. You must need food…” He took a guess that the other hadn’t eaten that day, nor had a cigarette or alcohol.

Bill nodded at the suggestion, his body feeling hollow yet impossibly empty, using the other’s shoulder and chest as support. “You’re right,” he mumbled into the other’s jacket.

It was incredible to see Bill so exceedingly weak, this being disturbing on another level to Dipper, feeling like he didn’t have the absolute protection of the other. Their bond made this feeling even more prominent, the brunet biting the inside of his cheek as he tried not to spill more empty tears.

“Okay…let’s try to walk, okay? Maybe we can find a place to eat…and get back home. You got Ford’s research, right?” Dipper inquired, considering the other may have forgotten.

Bill’s eyes flew wide for a moment before he lidded them tiredly again, feeling a rush in his chest with the realization. “Well…I forgot, but…” he coughed weakly. “More evidence that he’s probably insane.”

Dipper helped his partner up and nodded. “You’re right. He didn’t bring much with him, anyway.” The blond was steady enough on his legs to only need a little support from the shorter, who was more than elated to help.

Once they managed to get down the hill and into the streetlights, Bill developed a grimace at the sight of the other. “You’re…uh…” He didn’t know how to put it in order to not freak the other out.

“I’m…I’m what?” Dipper tilted his head with curiosity, his partner mostly standing on his own now.

The detective grabbed his water bottle and a cloth from his bag, using it to effectively clean the other’s glasses and face, luckily nothing showing up on his black hoodie. With a quick scan of the rest of the other’s body, he ensured that no other blood was visible. “Alright, let’s go.”

The two walked, Bill’s arm comfortably around the other’s shoulders as they trekked forward, away from their tragedy.

 

After getting a quick meal, quick because Dipper refused to eat more than getting a coffee with an unnecessary amount of sugar and Bill devouring two meals worth of food in twenty minutes, the two were back on the night bus and headed back to their home.

The bus driver was unusually friendly compared to normal drivers they had previously, even making gentle conversation with the two. This wasn’t exactly welcomed, but she did not overstep her boundaries in questioning and let them sleep once it got later into the night.

Bill was the heavy sleeper this trip, Dipper buzzed on coffee, regret, and adrenaline, but still making a good pillow for the other to collapse on. As the demon slept, he regained that familiar radiating heat that he had lost with overuse, occasionally mumbling nonsense that Dipper couldn’t recognize.

The brunet focused on writing out his thoughts, nervously chewing his pen as he considered. He realized that the investigators may find out that he had used his bus ticket and traveled to Piedmont the night of the murder, so he planned out how he would lie to make it seem as if he hadn’t actually seen the other before heading home.

Scribbling nearly illegible nonsense, he listened to his partner’s mumbles, now becoming more frequent and hostile. Some began to become understandable in English, Dipper taking a break from his plotting to listen carefully.

“Sweeter…brushing with…you’re…he’s not…leave me…leave me…” Dipper furrowed his brow, concluding the other might be simply dreaming about a memory. Something tugged at the back of his mind, in fact, this was the instinct he had from the bond their deal had created. He felt a moral dilemma and a specific guilt, which would be strange for Bill.

After considering, Dipper came to a realization that he was most likely hearing the voice of a personality after the murder and trying to reason with it, so he kept cautious but only resolved to intervene if it became serious. Continuing with his writing, he came up with a solution to the bus ticket dilemma, even reasoning why Bill was with him on the trip.

As they crossed the Oregon border, the sun was bright in the sky, Dipper feeling a familiar buildup of chemicals in his brain from staying up all night but ignored his exhaustion and discomfort from the cumulative twenty hours on the bus. He glanced to his partner, who had managed to sleep through seven hours of the trip and had since calmed down from whatever dream he was having.

The light shined sweetly off the other’s lustrous skin, messy hair looking naturally good despite its state of being. The brunet took a minute from writing to admire the other’s natural beauty, pecking his lips softly before storing his notebook.

Bill begun to awake slightly with the shuffling, voices from his partially hallucinatory state blaring in his head as he awoke. He groaned slightly and pulled his partner closer, resting his head into the crook of Dipper’s neck and yawning.

“How did you sleep?” Dipper asked lowly, appreciating the heat of the other against his skin.

“Mmm…deeply. Too deeply…” Bill furrowed his brow and remained in his snuggled position, being exceedingly comforting for him. “I heard some voices…” He frowned and moved to stretch his sore neck.

“I assumed so…you talked in your sleep for a few hours. Not loudly, just…you sounded upset.” Dipper made eye contact with his partner, their bond influencing a connection of emotions they could feel by simply looking at each other.

Bill nodded and gave a soft “You understand the rest,” before rubbing his eyes, glancing out the window. “How close are we?”

“About an hour. I’ll let you stay over today…you know, if you want.” Dipper cracked a smile to his partner, their wild journey seeming to have passed so quickly. He almost didn’t want to admit to the fact that he never wanted to be separated from his partner again, although this was mostly caused by their bond and certain methods by which Bill had been manipulating him, it still provoked a certain sense of protection to have the other with him.

Bill nodded and returned the smile, sitting up fully and putting an arm around his partner’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Maybe we can have breakfast when we get home or go out and shop.” His suggestions were exceedingly casual but welcomed to the brunet who wanted to be distracted from what he had done by any method possible.

Dipper nodded and thought, but tiredness crept up on him rapidly, seen by the dark circles under his eyes and swollen face. “Okay…maybe after I nap, though.” He laughed gently and closed his eyes tiredly, leaning into his partner’s touch.

“Oh, you didn’t sleep?” Bill furrowed his brow worriedly.

“No…I drank that coffee, and…I felt anxious. Sorry.” He stared at his shoes discontentedly.

“No, no, don’t be sorry. I understand.” Bill nodded and patted his partner’s shoulder, the two waiting in relative silence as the rest of their trip was concluded, Bill tipping the driver twenty dollars for driving them at night. This was exceedingly welcomed by the sweet bus driver, who wished the two a good time before pulling away.

And once again, the partners made their trip back to the shack, a massive felony seeming to travel with the wind behind them as they walked. The two felt an unmistakably heavy burden of moral corruption on their shoulders, this being especially strong for the exhausted and slightly paranoid Dipper.

Nevertheless, they marched on, pushing their bloody history as far into the past as time would allow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like metal music like I do, consider checking out Ice Nine Kills. This is my favorite song by them.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BojyGdZxjGM


	22. Love of His Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it's almost 1 AM on a school night. I feel a little better now, sorry for not updating in a few days. I was actually planning on finishing this up tonight but I decided I couldn't give the ending enough justice, so expect a little more in the coming weeks! I promise I won't abandon this again, haha. Anyway, here are two shorter chapters to make up for the fact that I might not write a lot this week. Enjoy! -Will

Stephen sighed as he opened the barrier to his apartment, the elevator ride up seeming endless. He wondered how he would face his sister like this, anxiety welling up in his stomach and jumping into his throat as he arrived at his door.

“Hey, Steph,” came the warm greeting from his sister. “You’re…a little later than you said you’d be.”

The now eighteen-year-old quietly blinked a few times after setting his things down, trying to appear as not drunk as possible. “I spent a little extra…a little extra time. Doing working.” His words were slightly slurred, his typical speaking mannerisms changed.

Sebastiana’s gaze darted over as she immediately recognized her brother wasn’t acting normally, seeing his flushed face and weak movements as he moved to sit. Upon moving closer to him, she smelled booze, scrunching up her face.

Reminded of her godforsaken father, Stephen’s sister became slightly angered. “Can you explain why you smell like dad?” When they used that term, it never had a good connotation, usually used to identify drunkards or friends who they were forced to be designated drivers for.

Stephen tensed up slightly, realizing the anxious feeling in his stomach might not be just from the situation. “Well. I, Bill was around me. And you know him.” His glassy gaze searched her face.

Sebastiana took a deep breath in, pursing her lips as she sat, hands folded. “How did you get liquor?” She asked simply, praying that her brother wouldn’t lie further.

Stephen blinked, tapping his cold fingers against his warm cheek with thought, deciding not to lie anymore. It wasn’t like his sister would report him, probably. “Stole Romeo’s ID.”

His sister’s face dropped upon the news, realizing the reason he must have dyed his hair the same as Romeo’s was not simply as a kind sentiment. Utterly shocked at the unfathomable deception her seemingly innocent brother had performed, all she managed to force out was “They didn’t catch you and tell you he’s dead?”

Stephen giggled inappropriately, more of a nervous laugh than anything. He hiccuped, patting his chest. “No sir.”

Sebastiana held her head in disbelief, refusing to look at her brother, thinking about what to ask next. She cared not to express her disappointment and horror, but rather quell whatever curiosities she had left. “I’m not doing this again,” she mumbled to herself, reminding what type of a hell it was to take care of her constantly inebriated father.

“…m’ sorry, Seb…” he cut himself off, feeling his mouth water and rushing to the restroom. When he emerged from the violent ejecting of what could metaphorically be expressed as his regrets, he stumbled back out to the main room, chest tightening as he saw his sister crying.

“Never do that again. Never, ever, EVER go out drinking again, do you hear me? We will suffer through your issues together, and…and, and, and you won’t turn out like HIM!” She started to yell slightly in her frustration and angst.

Stephen met the angry atmosphere, yelling right back. “Stop comparing me to m’, will ya? It’s not fucking funny anymore, sis,” He clenched his jaw, feeling acid still burning in his throat. He should have stayed at the bar, where the liquid is that clears his mind and leaves him with a happy and free feeling.

Sebastiana just sobbed more, hardly able to speak or think. She couldn’t match a drunk, and she should have learned her lesson when facing her father. Expecting she might have to run from such a situation, she had already packed up, just raring to go.

Stephen pointed out the suitcase next to her chair as his sister arose, blindly and cruelly mocking her intentions. “You’re just here to fuck with me. You don’t care if I live or die, you’re just here to be controlling and then run away from your issues. I’d come up with a name for you, but I’m apparently too blindly ill for such a thing.” His voice was gruff and cruel, drunkenness making him reckless.

Sebastiana bit her lip, grabbing her things. “Avery was right about you. There…there is something wrong with you.” She briskly left, slamming the door in her brother’s face.

The younger shouted down the hall after her. “Dad was right about YOU, you worthless…worthless…agh!” He shouted in frustration as he couldn’t formulate a proper insult, smashing the door behind him and nearly breaking the lock mechanism.

Stephen didn’t go back to work.

 

Bill tiptoed past Dipper’s room where the brunet slept after the long bus ride, isolating himself in Stanley’s office and shutting the door behind him softly. He opened the window and enjoyed a cigarette, flipping through some music that was left on top of the piano. Intrigued, the detective opened the top casing of the instrument, revealing well kept keys that most likely hadn’t been used often by the grifter.

Inspecting the instrument, the blond felt a touch of the remnants of his brother’s magic, this being expected for any instrument that was near the blue-haired demon. Nearly a natural prodigy, the man could write, draw, sing, act, and play any instrument like a genius. Bill found himself reminiscing, a sick feeling in his stomach as he remembered the broken cello he had found in the corner or Ford’s office.

Cello was Will’s favorite.

Trying to ignore the feeling, the detective pressed the pedals curiously to make sure they still functioned, then cautiously laying down a few chords. Surprisingly, the instrument was still in tune after a while of not being used, Bill considering if his brother’s magic may still linger in more ways than one.

“Let’s see what I remember…” Bill mumbled to himself, turning his attention to the seemingly endless expanse of keys at his fingertips. Taking a final drag from his cigarette and extinguishing it on the ash tray on top of the piano, he struck a few more chords, running up and down some basic scales. He cringed and stretched his fingers, knuckles and joints no longer adapted to such exertion.

Flipping through the pages, he found Beethoven’s seventh, sight reading what he could. He was surprised at his remaining agility to read and play, slowly falling back into his minor instrumental obsession. It felt comforting to play a familiar tune, a positive familiarity he had struggled to find in this dimension.

Making sure to keep the softening pedal pressed, Bill continued with his practice, jokingly singing the brief part of “We’ll Meet Again” he had memorized. It reminded him of his power, and how Ford was able to meet the fate the demon originally intended him to.

Dipper awoke to a seemingly unfamiliar voice singing “Hey Jude” and playing piano from a distant room, the brunet first jumping at the possibility of a very talented intruder but easing into the sound. The person’s voice was sweet and calm, clear joy in their task being heard.

After he listened happily and came to his senses, he was able to realize that the only person it could be is Bill, baffled by the clarity and sweetness of the other’s voice. Stepping out of bed and adjusting his shirt, he approached his Stanley’s office.

The blond didn’t notice his partner standing in the doorway as he went through a heartfelt rendition of “Love of my Life,” noting how even he felt saddened at the metaphor he created by singing it to his hushed and sleeping partner, unaware that the other was awake. His eyes were closed, completely focused on his music.

“You will remember, when this is all blown over, and everything’s all by the way, when I grow older, I will be there at your side, to remind you how I still love you…” The taller became increasingly dismal as he realized the situational connotation relating to his and Dipper’s recent escapades but continued.

“Hurry back, hurry back, please bring it back home to me…because you don’t know what it means to me, love of my life…” the blonde struck a dreary yet sweet chord to end his performance, opening his eyes and jumping at the sight of his partner tearfully standing in the doorway.

“Dipper-! I-1…” He exclaimed with a voice crack, looking desperately around the room. “Did I-…” his inquiry was cut off by the other’s sudden grasp, the brunet pulling his partner into a warm hug. “…wake you?”

Dipper shook his head no and sniffled, happy when his partner returned the warming hug. “You have a really nice voice…” he mumbled into the other’s sweater, pleased by his warmth.

Bill smiled slightly, resting his chin in the other’s tossed hair. “Thank you…” He closed his eyes peacefully, content with the affection, lifting his spirits after being pulled by the sad tune.

The two shared brief conversation about Bill’s musical history, the two thereafter jokingly acting out various memes Dipper had seen, Bill easily able to transpose the tunes from the short videos. They laughed, feeling united as partners that completed each other.

Their shenanigans eventually lead into the attempts of Bill to play various song by ear, “Roaring 20s” being the first the two attempted. The brunet happily deemed this “their song,” laughing as the other would mess up and either follow it with musical nonsense or curse under his breath.

“This! Is! My! ROAAARIN- oh SHIT! Haha, fuck- wait, lemme just-…” Bill laughed as he tried to fix his mistake, his fingers getting slightly tangled in the mess.

They carried on, Bill nearly learning the entirety of the song before they moved on to other music. Dipper expressed his surprise with the fact that the demon enjoyed classic rock bands, Bill shrugging and simply saying “Well, I know of them.” He jokingly started playing the operetta part of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” making his partner nearly cry laughing with how much he dramatized the high part.

It was almost as if they had forgotten their sins.


	23. The Scientist and His Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next one! Sorry if it's poorly edited. Also, I won't be doing any smut in this fic, so don't worry about that if you don't like it. If you're not a fan of the affection, this is mostly just that, if you want to skip it. -Will

After a nice dinner out, it began to rain once again, Bill being reminded of the couple he had seen a few nights previously. He soon discovered his wishes and fantasies had come true, allowing his partner to reside under his arm as the taller tipsily shielded him from the rain. The night was fairly peaceful as they walked, Bill telling his best jokes while relaxed and slightly off his rocker.

The two watched the news, finding how similar their political stances were and being pleased, at least relating to the strangeness of having a certain someone in office. They vented their frustrations, each satisfied they had someone who understood and was able to respond with just as much rigor as the first.

Their discussion eventually lead into other issues of civil rights, Dipper educating Bill slightly on current crisis and various terms. The other was eager and happy to listen, although unusual for the blond, it was appreciated by his partner. The detective would occasionally respond with an “oh, that’s interesting,” or “I like that way of thinking about it,” growing more affectionate with his partner with each statement.

Dipper noticed the advances and didn’t mind them, finding a peculiar comfort in his partner’s warm chest and face. The two felt so full of life, an unmistakable sense of freedom and lust blooming inside the brunet. “I love you, you know.”

Bill hummed pleasantly and ran a hand through his partner’s hair, undoubtedly happy to hear the words. “I love you too,” he returned, not going too far.

Dipper snuggled closer to the other’s chest, kissing up his partner’s neck gently. “You’re so fascinating…” he mumbled to the other, voice softened nearly to a whisper.

Bill subconsciously tilted his head back, enjoying the interesting feeling. Basking in the praise, he let the other continue.

“So, so mesmerizing…” The brunet hummed, clearly grinning through his words. As he worked his way up the other’s jawline, he ran his hand through Bill’s soft hair, but noting his partner’s developed tenseness.

The blond moved his hand down to grip the couch, a face of mixed feelings shown. Dipper’s brow furrowed in worry, stopping to try to capture the other’s gaze. “Are you okay?” He asked tenderly.

Bill’s eyes flew open as the other stopped, being slightly taken aback as he loosened up. “Oh, yeah, yeah…I’m not super used to it, is all. A…a little strange.” His gold eye glowed differently than normal, his iris seeming to pool in a more saturated shade, a glow reflecting on his cheek.

Dipper nodded, being absolutely taken by the mystery and allusiveness of his partner. He searched for some kind of further consent.

“You can continue. I’ll ease up a little.” Bill smiled and let his eyes close as the other searched, this being a strange experiment of its own.

As the other tried various comforts and methods of affection, he diligently searched for positive or negative responses, the only negative one being when Dipper touched his ear. He hissed in pain, apologizing almost immediately. “Sorry, sorry. The, this one, it hurts a little.” He pointed to the industrial piercing and leaned back again, Dipper taking note and apologizing.

After carrying out a gentle massage of the detective’s shoulders and collarbone, the brunet laughed darkly, slightly unexpected but welcomed by his partner. “I’m such a scientist,” he mused to himself, remarking about his unorganized experimentation of his partner. Upon observing the other’s reaction to the affection, he noticed the other releasing more energy in the form of heat, Dipper having to put out the scented candles that he used as an apparatus to release the energy as they nearly set the nearby houseplant on fire.

His partner seemed almost desperate for more, biting at his lips slightly and letting out soft whines with the other’s ghost touches, not particularly frustrated that he wasn’t getting what he wanted, surprisingly. The blond came to a negative realization, expression falling as he opened his eyes. “Uh…I think…” he couldn’t find the right words, anxious the other might be angry with him.

This caught Dipper’s attention, who tilted his head to the side curiously. “Yes?”

“I think this is…this is worship. Because we’re bonded, um…” Bill bit his lip and broke his gaze nervously. “Do…do you care? Is it okay?”

Dipper smiled at the other’s consideration, nodding. “I don’t…I don’t practice too strongly. I mean…I’m here with a demon, so…” he laughed slightly. “I use it more as a guide of structure and timing for my life, I guess. But…thank you.”

Bill nodded understandingly, considering what the other was hinting at, but not making him feel vulnerable by jumping to a conclusion. Nevertheless, the thought elated him, content when the other went back to work.

The brunet laid a gentle kiss to the other’s lips, catching his partner’s half lidded gaze. With time, the two deepened their touch, soft breaths being shared and exchanged. He gently pushed his partner down to flush with the couch, a soft kiss to his toffee skin turning into a gentle nip.

The detective initially jumped and yelped with the sensation but eventually melted with a soft moan, making it clear he appreciated the move. The brunet considered what a masochist the other was and continued, finding various spots that were particularly sensitive. He noted his partner didn’t bruise easily.

“Okay, now it’s my turn,” Bill stated matter-of-factly, sitting up slightly under the other’s weight and giving a determined, glowing gaze to the other.

Dipper, although taken aback by the sudden move of determination, gladly accepted and rolled off his partner. They switched places, Bill having closely observed the other’s strategy of easing into more strong work. He started with gentle, warm kisses down the other’s jaw, letting a stray hand run through his soft, sienna hair.

The demon was able to exploit some of the energy he gained from the form of worship and deliver it back to the other, a type of strange reciprocation only those bonded could have. Melting into the sweet feeling, the brunet let out the occasional whisper for more or expression of pleasure, subconsciously pulling his partner’s head closer as he feasted on the dynamic.

The demon continued with his exertion, giving gentle bites to the other’s skin and finding their shared enjoyment in the act, the blond being on the giving end and the brunet being on the receiving end. Something about feeling the other writhe slightly to only lead to a pleasured moan fostered an unfamiliar energy in the other, leading him to take it further.

The detective drew blood with his sharp teeth, the other yelping in surprise and tugging the other’s hair that he didn’t know he was holding, but practically melting with the enjoyment of being under the demon’s control.

The blond first felt fear for hurting the other, but this was soon replaced by an overwhelming dose of pleasure, seeing the other’s vulnerability and desire. He moved up to kiss the other’s lips once more, being more dominating with his methods, the other responding accordingly and taking a peculiar appreciation to the control.

“Mm…let’s move…” The smaller suggested, practically humming into the other’s mouth.

Bill, practically inebriated by dopamine, wound up agreeing with his partner and they moved to the brunet’s room, finding no need to close the door behind them.

 

After a few more minutes, Bill took a deep breath in, practically exhaling ashes afterward. He gently moved off of his partner, feeling fire creeping up in his throat. “Light a candle, will you?” He asked the other politely.

Dipper, made nervous by the other’s sudden distress, obeyed and set it in the middle of the floor.

The demon groaned slightly as he closed his eyes, raising a gentle pillar from the candle and fanning himself off slightly, taking as shallow breaths as possible.

The previously dim room was brilliantly lit by the golden flame, specks of blue residing in sparks that fell. Dipper found himself captured by the display, waiting to ask questions after the ordeal.

The candle fully melted, and the wick burned, Bill deciding he had released an adequate amount of energy and looking gently to his partner, who was sitting on the floor and staring up at him with pure fascination.

“I almost set us on fire…” Bill admitted with a sheepish grin.

Dipper’s face did not drop in horror as expected, rather, his eyes shone brighter. “I didn’t know you…could do that…” he pondered, trying to find his words. “So, if you breathe like that…” he began to come to a conclusion, admiring how adaptive his partner was.

Bill nodded, filling in the answer. “I’m trying to see if I’m setting myself on fire by further oxidizing my body, yes.” He smiled to the other, seeing the other’s true love for discovery and learning.

“You’re…incredible. Truly.” Dipper gently grabbed Bill’s hand, still warm to the touch.

“And I’ve found my sweet scientist.” Bill hummed his response, rubbing gentle circles on the back of the other’s hand.

They sat in silence, gazing through the brunet’s window at the wide expanse of stars and nothingness until they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be me! Get to bed on time! And if you're reading this in the middle of the night...same.


	24. Life's Just Poetry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (me, writing this chapter) COME GET YALL JUICE  
> (you guys, sliding on the floor and breaking the glass to the oven) AHHHHH  
> Sorry I imagined that all day and it was the FUNNIEST thing. Anyway, sorry for not uploading for a few weeks. School is a lot of work. I hope to have this finished before things get bad in February in March, but we'll see. Thanks to my faithful readers for sticking with me throughout all 50,000 words (or whatever it is) of this nonsense. Warnings in this chapter are mania, blood, and attempted suicide. Thanks again for reading. -Will

The brunet sat as his desk, pondering the unknown, as any good scientist would. He decided to write for fun, a hobby he had deprived himself of since further dedicating his life to his studies and figuring out who could have possibly killed his sister.

It was two months after he murdered his own uncle. He recalled this incident with a slight shiver, admittedly retaining night terrors from internalized resentment and fear that led him to take advantage of his partner’s magic to quell his uncertainties.

He began to scribble out a concept for an aesthetic, grinning as he listened to music and worked. He sang random words, only accentuating the ones he knew, the rest being lost to drabbles of nonsensical syllables of lyrics he found himself to lazy to learn. After his casual ordeal, Dipper turned to a fresh page and began a personal entry of sorts, something he hadn’t dedicated himself to recently enough.

[November 17th. I find myself lacking the same fears as I once held to months ago. Is this as a result of his magic? Am I finally learning how to deal with my emotions correctly? Who knows? The reason I write is to search for solace, an aesthetic that may remind me of a more peaceful or resilient time. I digress on my reasoning.

I find myself missing my partner while he’s at work. I draw him, I continue my research on the magical phenomena he presents to me…but something cannot fill the gaping hole of abandonment I feel in my chest when I am left alone.

The house is too quiet without the presence of another. Even if Ford presented a bother…it was still a living being. The quiet scares me sometimes, but these are the woes that a person who is not lonely cannot understand appropriately.

Maybe I just miss him. I’d like to move in with Bill, but my better instinct is telling me that this is a bad idea. There is too much here to abandon with Ford’s studies and all, and I find myself paranoid that the case will come up again even with our exceedingly strong alibi. I’m glad I have an advantage through him, but one doesn’t simply commit a murder and come out unscathed. Nothing is simple. I am not simple. And Bill, Bill is certainly not simple.

Maybe I haven’t recovered. Maybe…maybe I’m not who I think I am.

Sometimes the thought of him leaving me alone when I was in pain hurts me, and I associate it similarly with how Ford would hurt me. Apathy is certainly a killer, but I am fortunate that Bill shows himself to be only about a third as apathetic as Ford. What a statement!

Perhaps I’ll go visit him tonight, as a pleasant surprise. I can update him on my findings…and maybe we’ll get into some other things. He’s been so busy lately, though…I hope he has time for me.

No, he made me a promise. Of course, he has time for me, I’m writing nonsense.

…I hope.]

Dipper took in a sharp breath and blew on the page to quickly dry the ink, slightly struggling to shut the massive and unkempt book. This was a conglomeration of all of his personal ideas since his sister died, a sort of escape from the outside world and the reality he was supposed to study, the truth he was supposed to make out of things. He quickly found that making truth out of everything wasn’t always fun.

No, it was almost never fun. Typically, it’s dirty, cynically driven, and idealized.

With these pessimistic thoughts, Dipper got up from his chair with a groan and stretched slightly, rushing to grip his desk after nearly losing his footing. He took a deep breath, seeing lights in his peripheral vision and recalling he hadn’t had a necessary dose of caffeine, resolving to go downstairs and make lunch and coffee.

He checked his phone by habit, feeling a sinking in his stomach upon seeing the voicemail from Ford’s old number he had refused to delete. It pained him to check his phone as he saw this, debating between feeding into his habits of idealistic symbolism or approaching the situation with apathy.

Surprisingly, the brunet gave into the latter and deleted his number, another remnant of Ford’s living legacy being erased from the planet.

 

Bill sighed and spun around in his chair, glancing outside to the dismally overcast day. He considered that his partner loved such weather, though, which made it slightly more tolerable for him.

With the coming winter months, Bill found that his fireproof and easily temperature regulated body absolutely despised the cold. Radiating sunlight was Bill’s more preferred weather, although he did enjoy the romanization of rain from time to time. He contemplated his jumbled thoughts as his brain deviated from his work, knocking on his door almost throwing him off balance from his precarious position with his legs up on the desk.

He gasped in a bit too much cigarette smoke, coughing as he walked up to open the door. His voice was constricted as he answered, tears pricking slightly as his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, what’s up already?”

“Jeez, sorry. I guess I’ll come back a different time.” Sol rolled his eyes and began to step away from the other’s door.

“Oh…no, you’re fine. Too much smoke is all, come in. Close the door behind you.” Bill shouted behind him, striding over to his desk and finding himself remaining too dismal to keep the correct posture. He sat back down and propped his feet up once again, taking a swig from his water bottle.

Sol sat down at one of the guest chairs in front of his desk, glancing at the strange portraits that still hung on Bill’s wall, but he paid little mind to them, his nose scrunching up slightly at the pungent smell of smoke. “Did you hear about Stephen?”

Bill raised an eyebrow, not meeting the other’s gaze. “What about ‘im?”

“Apparently they discovered from an anonymous source that he had stolen Romeo’s ID.” The former lover of the ghost boy seemed no longer frightened to speak his name. “He was finally caught using it yesterday and thrown in jail.”

Bill felt surprise jump in his throat at the development, lowering his feet from the desk. “The kid got arrested?!” He exclaimed, practically spitting the last word.

“Yeah, I was surprised too-…” Sol found himself cut off by Bill’s phone, the demon politely putting his finger up to shush the other as he picked it up.

“This is the Portland Bureau’s homicide unit, I’m the assistant supervisor, Bill Cipher, how may I direct your call?” Bill had the professional introduction fully memorized, his acting skills having quite improved after being required to work the phone more often.

Sol scoffed slightly at the fake introduction and rolled his eyes, glancing down to notice the dried-up lemon peels in the other’s wastebasket.

“Uh…Mr. Cipher? There’s a client here to see you in a private room.” The voice was of the sweet secretary that had directed Bill to his interview on the first day, clicking her new engagement ring against the phone as she waited for a response.

“Oh, thanks for telling me, I’ll be down in a minute.” Bill hummed and hung up the phone, standing up. “That’s wild. Tell me more later, or maybe shoot me a text. Someone’s waiting for me downstairs.” He strolled out of his office, leaving the door open in order for the other to let himself out.

Sol mumbled an “Okay,” waiting for the preoccupied Bill to fully enter the elevator and leave for the lower floor before he stood up and closed the office door, beginning to curiously rummage through his stuff.

Disturbed, the man noted the small cracking of the tempered window glass in the detective’s office but paid little mind to it as he considered it to be a minor instillation issue. He looked through drawers, finding various illegible sticky notes and strange drawings of the same three people. “Freak…” he muttered to himself, keeping a few things as possible psychotic evidence.

Stepping out, Sol found his pockets filled with suggestions of Bill’s insanity and possible magic ability, something he had been trying to prove for nearly the entire time Bill had been in the office.

Oh, what sweet trouble the aqua-eyed man would be in.

 

Bill arrived downstairs and confusedly looked around, the polite secretary pointing to one of the private rooms where Avery waited. The blond smiled upon stepping in, always welcoming a visit that would allow him to take a small break. “Hey, Avery! Haven’t heard from you in a while, how you been?”

The girl found it easy to feign a smile, although generally excited to see someone she thought was hilarious and interesting. “Well, I’m doing alright. I tried getting this short haircut, do you like it?”

Bill nodded and shut the door, sitting across from her. “Yeah, you look really great! The reddish color compliments you well, too.” He felt a genuine happiness, feeling special that he was visited.

Avery nodded and gave a polite “Thank you!” before getting to her point. “Anyway, the reason I called you down is because…well, did you hear what happened with Stephen?”

Bill hummed and nodded. “I don’t know the full thing…and I haven’t had much time to look into it. With my boyfriend and promotion and all.” He chuckled slightly.

“Damn, you don’t gotta flex on me with your successes, Bill,” she joked and laughed, lightly punching the other in the arm. The blond found himself laughing contently, listening for her next statement.

“Anyway, anyway, so he stole Romeo’s ID, which is like, totally a big no-no. And he got arrested and…I was wondering if you wanted to come see him? I’m a little scared to go see him myself, but I wanted to because Sebastiana is worried and upset after their original fight.” Avery easily captured the other’s gaze, a hopeful, kind look in her eyes.

Bill considered the suggestion for a second, pursing his lips. “Well…I can see. When are visiting hours?”

“Three to seven,” Avery casually responded.

“Okay, I can get off my shift a little early today, too, because I got here early. Do you wanna come back to my place afterwards and talk to Dipper for a little bit?’ Bill offered, blind generosity at the prospect of more interaction than normal driving him to make more plans than potentially preferred.

Avery nodded in delight. “Sure, can I bring some of my sketching stuff? I know he draws sometimes, so I thought he might want to see some of my concepts.”

“Yeah, of course, that’d be really cool. And I’ll make something for us to eat, cool?” Bill offered with a grin.

“Hell yeah! Just no milk, remember,” She laughed, standing up as she took the same cue from the other.

Bill nodded and stretched as he stood up. “No problem, we’ll meet at the stop at 4:30, good? Also…you didn’t have to pay the twenty bucks for this room. You coulda just…called me.”

Avery laughed and fluffed awkwardly through her hair, afterwards fidgeting with her glasses. “That time’s fine. I know…I just kinda wanted to see you in person. It’s been a while.”

Bill nodded. “Well…it was nice to see you too. Thanks for pulling me outta work, I guess.” He gently patted the other’s shoulder, Avery being an entire foot shorter than him. She led the way out the door, the two splitting ways after a final wave.

 

The hours passed, the afternoon seeming to creep away unnoticed, much like Bill’s sanity. He began to hear strange, repetitive phrases, vague enough to be not understandable but specific enough to draw his attention away from his work. He lit another cigarette, succumbing to the tendencies of a self-destructive victim.

He could care less if carcinogens wore away at his lungs, if chronic and heavy drinking made him painfully expel acids every once in a while, or if malnutrition caused him dizziness and to nearly black out every time he stood. The concepts of addiction and sin had been romanticized for him, the black cigarette smoke that stained his shirts being representative of a type of complicated safe haven the detective had made for himself.

He thought about the millions of people he had seen along the way, so many faces and names and ideas and lives and perspectives that his mind to take in, all of the information slowly driving his limited human brain to panic.

He felt cynical, wondering why he was cursed with a mind that was so self-destructive, a masochistic body that craved to edge as close to death as possible, and a sadistic heart that made murder, manipulation, and harm pleasurable to inflict on others.

He felt resentful, his stone-cold mind now shedding the concrete barrier that had kept himself from giving into such thoughts. He always considered how much he had to live for now, even only having a couple run-ins with voices and depressive tendencies as he spent more and more time with his strangely beloved partner. He considered what greedy bastards could take that all away from him, just as they took away his brother. Just as they took away Dipper’s sister. Just as they took away Romeo’s freedom and Stephen’s sanity.

He didn’t want to see Stephen, he felt that he didn’t have the capacity to deal with such a thing. What did it matter? The only one who truly mattered was Dipper, his heart being set to the one track of keeping the brunet happy. But what did that matter, now? Dipper was clearly a genius, as least, as it could be seen from Bill’s observations. What would it matter if he faded out of the other’s life? It would be easy to move on, after all, the brunet seemed to move on pretty quick after the death of his uncle.

“What is the measure of a madman?” Bill mumbled to himself and stood up, disdainfully extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray. This was a phrase he heard clearly in his head, repeating it after the voice. He whipped around, something drawing him to the crack in the tempered glass he had never noticed before.

Taking a deep breath, he submitted the document he was working on, technically completing his work for the day. “Another life ruined…” he heard one whisper after another, these soon intensifying to screams.

His computer went black. The lights flickered and short circuited, a couple light bulbs exploding from sheer pressure. The detective felt unusually light, as if more than his own will was holding his body and mind.

The phantom presence drew him to the window with a sharp metal bar that had fallen off the above lighting fixture in his hand, his third eye open only to be blind and crossed out. He groaned as he involuntarily checked the sharpness on his own hand, drawing dark blood that dripped like thick syrup onto the floor.

The man was unhealthy.

He locked the door with a snap as he pried madly at the tempered glass, the small cracks easily giving way to larger ones that enveloped nearly the whole window, an unusual amount of fresh air finally being let into his room as he smashed out the glass with his elbow.

He shakily dropped the bar, hearing the recesses of his unconscious screaming his name as he tried to escape his fate, the sick voices possessing him shrieking about the delightful appeal of his broken spine.

Northwest growled and rapped on his employee’s door, shouting threats at him as he attempted to open it with his own weak force. Apparently, the lights had gone out on the entire floor, the loud window smashing from Bill’s room proving him suspicious.

The detective was deaf to the screams, finding a way to lankily maneuver out of the high window. The pain from his cuts and the large shard of glass embedded in the tendons of his forearm were more akin to dull buzzing, taunting screaming and victimizing mannerisms morphing into some kind of sick, exploitable chemical that resulted in the same potent effect as a narcotic.

The blond held onto the window frame by the tips of his fingers, his eyes glazed over as tears poured from his eyes, panic and alert unable to stop what he was being forced to do, no matter what volume they were delivered at. He focused on the thick blood trickling down his arms from his ruptured fingertips, small veins broken and remnants of glass that remained infinitely glued onto the windowsill.

The door to his office broke down, and Bill let go, falling the entire six stories down to the unforgiving concrete below.

The last thing he thought of before he hit the ground was Dipper, seeing the image of him standing tearfully in the doorway as he played his miserable songs being the last thing he remembered before it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a heavy influence for Bill's character when I started developing the AU (now an ENTIRE YEAR AGO)! this song still goes hard as fuck, though.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teahff6bXd0


	25. Demolition Lovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...it's been a long run, but here's the final chapter of this AU. Thanks to everyone who has read my story and supported me in this strange side hobby of mine. I really, really hope you guys enjoy the end, and I'm really blessed to have all of this support and enjoyment from others in my life. To establish a little background, I had this idea about a year ago based off of a dumb meme during the time when the NSA/FBI agent memes were popular, where the agent assigned to your webcamera was your soulmate. So...yeah...this was going to go in a completely different direction, but honestly, I like how it turned out. Once again, thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through this story all the way through this wild work of fiction, and I wish you all the best. -Will

A soft beeping emanated from the monitor next to the hospital bed. In the chair, a sad brunet regretted his decisions and existence. Who was he to judge his partner’s actions? What was he to do? But, most of all, how would he tell his beloved that he no longer wanted anything to do with him?

Dipper stood to gently gaze upon the other’s face, one that was no longer contorted with pain as it had been before they drugged him. He gently took the other’s cheek in his hand and stroked his thumb, feeling a hint of warmth under his skin, which was absolutely elating after seeing the detective’s original condition.

Bill had definitely been fired.

Dipper bit his lip and sat back down, feeling his throat constricting as invasive thoughts flooded his mind. What was the man thinking when he shattered the window to jump? The brunet considered that he should be doing more to help the other, who was obviously unstable and unhealthy, but didn’t know how. The other hated hospitals as it was, and he definitely could not be well bound in a mental institute, or could he?

A small groan was heard from the other, the soft, slow beeping of the monitor increasing rapidly. Dipper stood up once more, his eyes flying wide with fear. “Bill?” He shouted to a mind that could not hear him.

The detective shifted gently, his face flushing as pain overtook his body and jolted him awake. He coughed, opening his eyes and letting out a subsequent cry of pain, unable to shift his body.

Dipper rushed to his side, taking his partner’s hand in his own and squeezing gently, rubbing calming circles into the back of the blonde’s hand. He cooed gently, discouraging him from moving.

“You look upset.” A surprising statement came from Bill, who was now blearily staring at the other. He didn’t speak more, swallowing hard, looking equally, if not more upset himself.

Dipper looked back at him, searching his gaze for more than what his simple statement provided. He shook his head. “No…I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” The brunet almost found himself apologizing based upon an assumption he made, but the feelings were too raw for him to get through his statement.

Bill shut his eyes and turned his head, taking in a shallow breath as to not wreck his spine more than it already was. He felt like crying, too, responding to the pain of his partner and the poor decision he had been driven too. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this anymore.” He mumbled, teeth clenched in pain. “It’s not your battle to fight.”

“Well god fucking dammit, I’ll fight it, whether you like it or not! I love you, for fucks sake!” Dipper took in a hard breath an began to painfully sob, reaching his free hand shakily up to his face to hide his eyes. The monitor had once again slowed, to the other’s slight contentment.

Bill sighed and opened his eyes slightly, letting his hand remain limp in the other’s, his other wrist being broken practically beyond repair. He felt his body stuck in a vicious cycle, magic instinct attempting to heal him but failing. It felt as if he had reached some kind of quota, his body buffering every time it attempted to carry out a process.

“Dipper,” his voice was rushed yet sincere. “I can’t spend my entire existence here. I should have—have told you that earlier.” His face faltered as he spoke, an unnatural stammer coming from his voice.

Dipper’s brow furrowed in further worry as he spoke through messy sobs. “-…whaddya mean?”

“When I made the deal with—I was…I agreed to complete my task—and leave it at that-…” The other cut himself off again, feeling his face begin to glitch. He wondered how horrifying the sight must look.

Indeed, it was petrifying, Dipper releasing the other’s hand in blind fear. He expected the other to go ballistic at the brunet’s planned statement of breakup with him, but now the other was feeding him his expectations. He covered his mouth, looking to the floor guiltily.

“I know…” Bill mumbled, then letting out a grunt of pain. “I know. But…if I did anything right in my time here, it’s two things.” He tried to steady his face and meet the other’s gaze.

“One, I followed through with my end of the deal and solved the mystery of my brother’s death. Maybe…this will help me. And secondly…” The blonde paused to swallow and bite his lip, searching for words. “Remember that day I made a deal with you?”

Dipper nodded solemnly, hoping that this confession would not be a dismal one.

Bill cracked a smile, despite his throbbing headache and broken spine. “You get to come with me when I leave.”

Dipper at first quirked an eyebrow, rubbing away what tears were left in his eyes. He processed the statement, deciding it was too vague to draw a certain conclusion from.

Bill caught his confusion, elaborating. “Since I’m—existence here, I can use my remaining magic to—and we can return to there together. I’m sorry…was that enough?” Bill commented on his fading voice.

Dipper nodded, his eyes flying wide at the suggestion. He considered for a minute, sitting once again in the chair that he now pulled closer to the bed. He felt fatigued, of course not having eaten adequately that day. What is an appetite in the face of horror?

Bill gazed at him pleasantly, despite his otherwise defeated and frail demeanor. He attempted to hide the fact that he already felt himself fading away from the dimension, a type of strange liberation and ecstasy in which it was the first and only time he would experience it.

The brunet hid his face, his better logic regrettably kicking in. “No.” came a mumble from him.

“No…?—no what?” Bill inquired nervously.

“I’m not coming with you. You…you broke your part of the deal, is what you did. The part where you said that you’d protect me and defend me and not do anything further to hurt me. Do you remember that?” Dipper’s voice faltered at the end, shaking as he attempted not to sob.

Bill took a sharp breath in and tried to catch his gaze, the heart monitor beeping faster. “W—what? I didn’t mean—I don’t want to-…” He was cut off by the other’s strangely angry glare.

“You need to realize that there are consequences to your actions, and I don’t think you have an adequate grasp on that.” Anger flooded Dipper’s mind, the statement that poured from his mouth being one of the most mature statements he had made for himself and the other as an adult.

The brunet continued, seeing the shock in the other’s face, but finding a peculiar ability to ignore it. “You’ve taken me this fucking far. Voices or not, you can’t just jump out a window without even attempting to contact me or anyone first. And now…you tell me this, basically saying that you’re laying on your deathbed? And the only way I can ever see you again-…”

“Stop!” Bill shouted, glitchy streaks pouring out of his mouth. He started to cry with pain, desperately reaching for the other’s hand. “My love—don’t understand me—please listen!”

Dipper tore his hand away from the other, taking in a sharp breath. “You hurt me, Cipher.” He hissed the name, somehow able to come to the realization that perhaps the other’s plans for him were not in his best interest. “I can’t come with you back to wherever you decide to go, nor am I interested in it. This is…this is filthy love, and your empathy and care and tenderness are all a result of being in a human specimen, I’m not fucking STUPID, I’m a scientist.” Dipper slowly backed away from his partner, unable to take the guilt of the other’s face of betrayal and horror at his jumbled statements. It nevertheless permanently burned itself into Dipper’s mind, the image of his suffering partner.

“Dipper—can change, you want—don’t leave me! I’ll—I love you!” His last words were empty as his vision began to blur, hot tears steaming down his distorted face.

The monitor sped up.

Dipper hid his face and gathered his belongings, searching for his final words to the other. “That’s not you. You’d…you’d never love anyone except for your own kin, hence why you took such drastic and tricky measures to get closer on his death. One of those measures just unfortunately included the manipulation of a vulnerable nineteen-year-old.” He refused to look at Bill, although his partner’s face was now distorted nearly beyond recognition.

“Please…” The other’s groan was quiet and distant. “I want you with—please…the world does not deserve you…--I’m so sorry…” Bill once again tried to reach out to the figure he could vaguely recognize as his partner, but the attempt was a failure.

Dipper took one last regretted glance at his lover, mumbling his last words through clenched teeth. “I can’t abandon what I know so well. I’m sorry, Bill, but…I can’t love you.” The brunet tore out of the room before he was able to change his mind about the whole thing once again.

Sure, the prospect of running off to another dimension with his forever partner sounded appealing, but it was too appealing to be real. If Dipper had learned one thing in the last four years of his life, he learned that you have nothing to rely on but yourself, and others will just let you down. Somehow, he had lost this fundamental truth to blind love, sweet hope, and overzealous revenge.

“Hurry back…hurry back—love of my life, you’ve hurt me.” Dipper heard this statement blaring in his head as if Bill had said it directly to him, his mind immediately regressing to their shared time at the piano. He felt a pang of instant regret and fear, finally able to focus on the sounds occurring around him.

The monitor flat lined.

 

Dipper went home that night, trying to pretend as if he didn’t hear what had occurred. He wanted to get out of there and leave his own inferences up to what happened after he left, but he couldn’t deny the striking closure he had gotten.

He should have run away. He should have taken the other’s advice and made a much nicer and more successful life for himself within the multiverse, and had a life constantly filled with wonder, surprise, and intrigue.

He drank religiously, debating the prospects of love and care in his life. He felt truly alone now, considering turning himself in for conspiring to murder his uncle with a partner that had faded out of existence. What a statement!

The brunet wanted to make sound choices and knew that blowing his brains against the ceiling would be a manic behavior encouraged by his former partner. So, he resolved to avoid this decision in favor of a less lonely and guilty life. The guilt of leaving his former partner to die would never leave him, but at least he could do something to alleviate some of his guilt.

He called 911 and turned himself in a surprisingly apathetic nature, a mannerism he had picked up from none other than his ex-partner.

Dipper spent the night in a cool jail cell, with one other man of a year younger than him by his side.

“What are you in for?” The quiet voice mumbled.

“Conspiring to kill my uncle. You?” Dipper posed the question casually, as if they were speaking as friends.

Stephen furrowed his brow. “Stole a dead man’s ID to buy booze.”

Dipper nodded, not posing any further questions. He was no longer the passionate, curious, interrogative type he once used to be as a younger scientist. Questions only provided painful answers, ones he’d rather soon forget.

 

Bill had successfully returned to the area that functioned as his home, sighing as he reflected on what seemed to be a blur before him. Although the time in Dipper’s dimension had been objectively short, it still would theoretically have discernible memories, but the demon found himself able to recall less and less as he pondered.

He did retain memory of what happened to his brother, and realized that his former partner was right, he felt no discernible love or empathy. “Maybe the man was smarter than I thought…” the demon considered to himself.

Although he lacked the exploitable chemicals for human emotion, he still was able to feel as if there was something missing from his usual self, a drive to be strange and manipulative and funny as he had usually been fading out with no one to show off to. The feeling was lonely, the demon falling into the tendency of isolation once again as he felt no drive to interact. Although he couldn’t please anyone, he couldn’t harm anyone either.

Maybe it was better that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to continue writing after this! My old fics suck (please don't read them I'm Begging You) but all we can do is strive to be better, right? Every summer I try to do one or two projects, so what I'm expecting to work on is the professors AU and the rebel's AU my writing friend and I have been formulating! If you like my work, I hope you'll stick around for those!! Thank you all!


End file.
